


A Butterfly Effect

by MSpataro210



Category: DCU (Comics), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Barry and Bruce Wayne romance, Batman and Flash romance, Bottom Bruce Wayne, Confessions, F/M, Feelings, M/M, Misunderstandings, Top Barry Allen, gonna have a whole lot of references so keep eyes peeled, keeping secrets, mixing the tv verse with the comics verse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-17
Updated: 2017-07-28
Packaged: 2018-03-31 00:36:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 108,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3957859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MSpataro210/pseuds/MSpataro210
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Iris West-Allen.  That's the name Barry sees on the newspaper, and the name Iris hears will be her future.  But Iris is not the kind of girl who likes to be told what she will do.  Central City has become a bit much to her, and she makes the decision to get away for awhile, leaving Barry in a state of uncertainty as to where they lie.  But this decision may have consequences no one could have seen coming, as while Iris is away, Barry will play.  Barry starts to question what he feels in his heart when someone new comes onto the scene and makes him feel something different.  But what will happen: will Barry follow through to reach the future, or run his own path.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Flap of the Wings

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first foray into the world of superhero-television, so please be kind!  
> And this story will not just involve the Flash-verse, but also reach into the comics and pull some stuff out.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Iris tells Barry some life-changing news... that may have an effect on the future of everyone they know, including themselves.

           The empty cup sits on the edge of the table, so close as to worry some of the workers, yet not close enough that the gentlest of touches could knock it to the ground and shatter it into worthlessness.

            Iris can relate, in a way. It’s been a whirlwind these past couple of days: from discovering Barry’s double life to having Eddie break up with her, and what lies ahead of her.  Ever since then, she’s had a sense that a cold weight has settled itself onto her shoulders and is starting to choke her out past the point of no return.

            But then she looks down at the poor piece of paper she’s been wringing in her hands, and feels as if their might be a key that can unshackle herself from this heavy burden. And she wants to take it, she really does.  There’s just something she needs to do first.

            Someone she needs to talk to.

            “Iris, you said you had something important you wanted to discuss with me?”

            She looks up to see the hopeful smile of her best friend and, apparently the fastest man alive, Barry Allen.  His eyes brighten and his smile stretches a little more fully.  It’s been like this for a while, after having put Wells in prison, he’s allowing himself to be happy again.  It’s something she’s missed seeing on his face… and will most likely miss for some time after.

            “Yes,” she replies, “have a seat, please.”

            He quickly (but not inhumanly) takes his seat across from her at their favorite spot in Jitters. And suddenly, she has the faintest inkling that this is appropriate for them, as many important events concerning the both of them happened in this very store.

            “What’s got you smiling?” Barry asks, curiosity dancing in his eyes.

            “I could ask you the same thing Mr. Allen,” Iris fires back, falling back on their usual banter. If only they could rewind history, maybe things could be different.  Maybe Eddie would never have been involved.  Maybe Barry would never have been struck by lighting.  There’s too many maybe’s in her life for her to handle, and in her hands she has a definite.

            “Well… it could be that the days seem just a tad bit brighter, the birds chirping a chipper tune,” he waxes, going for one of her hands, “or maybe it’s because I’m with the loveliest girl in the world.”  His eyes are asking something so important, but unfortunately Iris does not have the answer.

            “Barry…” she slips her hand out of his and folds in on herself, gripping the paper as if she can muster enough resolve from the slip.  As if pulling that apocalyptic piece in the Jenga pile, Barry’s face crumples in an instant.

            “Iris,” he says again, much more serious, “wha-what is going on?”

            “I…” she starts, “I can’t do this Barry.”

            There’s no need for an explanation.  They both know what “this” is, and it’s been building to a head for a while, actually.

            Barry sputters. “But,” he tries, “but why? I thought we loved each other? Now that Eddie is no longer in the picture-“

            “Exactly, Barry,” Iris interrupts, “Eddie dumped me.  And when he did he informed me as to why he did what he did.  It involved you, me, and a hyphen.”  At this, Barry darkens.  “You knew, didn’t you?”

            “I-I didn’t mean to,” Barry explains, “I noticed it on a newspaper from the future when Cisco, Caitlin and I broke into Wells’s safe room.  I never knew how to bring it up, I didn’t want to freak you out.”

            “And that is what I’m feeling now, Barry: freaked,” Iris says.

            “But this is only proof, Iris,” Barry tries again, “that you and I were meant to be with each other.”

            “No, Barry,” Iris stops him, “all this does is make me call into question everything I’ve ever believed in. Makes me question all of my choices, decisions… and feelings.  I don’t want some newspaper byline telling me how I should feel, I want my heart to tell me.”

            “And what does your heart tell you Iris?” Barry implores, hope slipping from his grasp.

            “I don’t know. I love you Barry, I really do. But I can’t be certain if it’s in the way you’ve been hoping for.  I don’t even know if you even know what kind of love you have for me.”

            “But I do. It’s the kind of love, where I want to share each day of my life with you for as long as I can,” Barry pleads, “I’ve known since we were children.”

            “That’s the problem Barry,” Iris smiles sadly, “you’ve felt this way for me since we were children. In the time from when we were kids to now, have you ever tried to explore any other options?”

            This throws Barry for a loop, as for the first time since he got there, he looks away from Iris. He gnaws at his lip in thought. “There was Linda!” Barry answers, feeling victorious in the moment.

            A moment… before Iris shatters the victory.

            “But you didn’t have any actual feelings for her.  You were trying to supplant your feelings for me, into her.  That’s why she couldn’t be with you Barry. You’ve tried so hard to get us together, like it’s supposed to be fate or destiny, that I can never be certain of my feelings towards you.”

            “So… we’re never going to be together, are we?” Barry asks, blinking back the tears threatening to leak onto his cheeks.  But now, Iris is the one to grab Barry’s hands.

            “I’m not saying that either,” Iris reassures, “I just want to have the opportunity to figure myself out, find out what I feel and how, without anyone telling me what it is I _should_ be feeling.”

            “And how long will this take?” Barry questions, a small light of hope in his heart.

            “I don’t know Bar,” Iris answers, looking away, “But in the meantime, I want you to explore other opportunities.  Do the same thing I’m doing, but for yourself.  Make sure that the feelings in your chest aren’t the fantasies of a small child, where we just ride off into the sunset in each other’s arms towards our ‘Happily Ever After’.”

            “How am I supposed to do that?” Barry asks, “I tried with Linda, but even you said it was only as an attempt to get to you.”

            “Which brings me to the other reason as to why I asked you here…” Iris trails off, sliding the paper in her hands over to Barry.  He gives it a questioning look.

            “Iris, what’s this?”

            “It’s an opportunity, Barry,” she smiles, “a chance for both of us to start fresh. A top reporter in Metropolis has scouted me: a Pulitzer winner for the Daily Planet.  She’s been reading my stuff on the Flash and sees potential, as she started off in the same racket for a guy down in Metropolis. She wants me to go to there for some time to mentor under her.”

            “Metropolis?” Barry repeats, “you’re going to Metropolis?!?  Does-does Joe know about this?  Does anyone know about this?”

            “No,” Iris tells him “I figured you should be the first one to know.  You deserved to know, especially since I’m leaving you in this awkward position.”

            “But how can this be an opportunity for both of us?  For me?” Barry asks, confusion splayed across his face as if someone stamped it to his forehead.

            Iris giggles. “Because I won’t be around you for awhile, and you won’t be around me.  It’ll give us time apart to figure out what we should really do. I know you can’t leave this town, but I feel that if I stay here any longer I might just explode with just how confusing my life has become.”  She continues, “I want you to try putting yourself out there, without messing it up because you’d rather spend more time with me than with her.  I want you to think long and hard about what it is that you feel for me, and see if you can find anyone else you might feel the same way for, or different in a good way.  That’s all I want for you, and for me Barry: to be happy.  If that’s with me, that’s good, but I want to be sure that this is what I want and not what someone alive 200 years from now wants.”

            Barry falls back in his seat, looking towards the smooth wood of the table as he absorbs everything Iris has laid out for him.  He understands where she’s coming from, he really does, but he doesn’t think that any other person could remove her from his heart no matter how hard they try. But he’s waited so long for her already… he’s willing to give her the space to see what he sees. To figure out that the hyphen does belong where it was on that article.  The story it’s under… well that can be addressed later.

            He looks back at her and sees her hopeful smile and knows what he has to do.  “Alright,” Barry complies, “I can try and see other people while you go off on your grand self-discovery tour across America.”

            “Thank you Barry,” Iris says, feeling lighter already, “you don’t know how much this means to me. You’re still a very important person in my life, and I would never want to hurt you, but I needed to do something for myself and this could be a great opportunity-I mean _the_ Lois Lane teaching me about journalism! I can’t wait to see all that Metropolis has to offer, I mean-“

            “Iris! Iris!” Barry laughs hollowly, “you’re doing what I usually do.”

            “Sorry, sorry,” she says, “I just get carried away and-oh no, I got to get going!  I needed to hand a story in to the editor five minutes ago, and I still need a great closing line!”

            “Need me to get you to the office?” Barry asks, a hopeful smile on his face.

            “No,” Iris answers, “I need the traffic to give me enough time to fix the ending. You just sit here, enjoy the atmosphere, and drink some nice, cheap coffee.”  She manages to run out of the coffeehouse in a whirlwind of style and elegance, leaving Barry to crouch in on himself sullenly.

            The waitress finally comes over, and he asks for his usual before retreating back into himself.

            He can’t help but feel sad about Iris, it’s what he’s been used to for the longest time and in times of trouble people usually fall back on what they’re good at. He knows Iris has every reason to feel what she’s feeling: not only has her loved ones been keeping her in the dark for the longest time, she finds out someone she’s never been in a relationship with is her husband.  If he wasn’t so used to all the weird things in life since he got his powers he might have felt like she did.

            But then there’s this little part of him that can’t shake the feelings he has for Iris. And why would he? Iris has been a constant in his life: the girl next door, his best friend, and his confidant. It’s like they were _made_ for each other. How can he be forcing them into something that life seems to be doing already?

            ‘ _And if life has been trying to get us together…’_ Barry thinks, _‘then she will definitely come back for me! She… she has to…_ ’

            His spirits somewhat restored, he sits a little higher until he realizes he still has to follow through on his promise to her.  She’d know if he didn’t keep to his word, and it would probably cause her to spend even less time with him.

            ‘ _But this is what heroes do,_ ’ he reasons to himself, _‘we sacrifice what we have for those we love. And if Iris wants me to see other people in the time she’s away… I will do it.  Besides, she didn’t say what kind or for how long… and, really, how long could she be gone for anyway?_ ’

            His phone vibrates in his pocket, and he grabs for it.  Barry opens it to see a message from Joe: something about a warehouse being broken into, one of the security guards had been murdered, and the other forensic analyst being sick with food poisoning.

            Sighing, he puts the phone away before moving to grab his cup of coffee at the counter: right on time, too.  But he doesn’t really get to enjoy it, as he makes his way to the door he doesn’t notice the other customer who also happened to get his coffee at the same time.

            Barry slams into him, knocking his coffee over and spills on both shirts: mostly the stranger’s. The stranger’s cup, however, stays full.

            “I am sooo sorry,” Barry says, reaching for some napkins that are conveniently an arm’s reach away. He starts dabbing at the man’s chest, blowing on the hot beverage that would normally cause screaming and shouting on the unlucky recipient, but this man proves himself to be the strong, silent type.

            Barry continues to babble, “I mean, I usually notice where I’m going-well, recently I’ve been doing that. I used to be very clumsy but, well, you only know me since now so I can’t prove that.  But I promise, I know how to walk normally and-gee you have a solid chest.  Not that-not that I’m objectifying you or anything it’s just- I’m making a bigger fool out of myself that I should be, aren’t I?”  When the shirt is brown and dry, he looks up into the stranger’s eyes.

            He’s classically handsome, with strong blue eyes and thick, black hair.  He’s got a couple days worth of scruff, and his lips are turned up into an amused smirk.  “You are,” he answers in a low baritone, “but I find it amusing, so really, go on.”

            Barry blushes, his heart beating in his chest.  “Well, I-I would, but I have to go someplace.  Sorry again, it’s just that I have to-bye!”  He shuffles away in shame, as he hears, no doubt, the mocking laughter of the crowd he garnered in Jitters.  It’ll be a long time before he returns there no doubt.  But even as he leaves, he can feel a strong burning on his back, and looks through the windows as to where the man stares at him until he is out of sight. He shivers, but then Barry realizes he has to get to the scene of the crime before he’s late… well, later than usual.

            But this day couldn’t have been worse: losing Iris, losing his dignity, and losing his coffee.

            What else does this day have in store for him?

 


	2. The Cup Spill-eth Over

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A new villain, a new mystery, and... a date? Barry lands himself a date with a very familiar face while Iris breaks the news to her father of where she's heading off to on her new adventure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys get to see someone from the comics make an appearance... well, two someone's. Anyway this is longer than the first, and will probably be the usual length of the chapters to come.

            “Where is he?”

            Captain Singh paces a small rut into the dingy, warehouse floor.  Watching him are his two best detectives: Joe West and Eddie Thawne. The two give each other a look, arguing without words as to who will be the one to talk their boss down from a heart attack.  Since Eddie is still recovering from the fresh wounds of the future, Joe decided to throw him a bone and bite the bullet.

            “Barry will be here,” Joe sighs, moving over to the annoyed Captain, “remember, it _was_ his day off.  He didn’t expect to be doing this stuff today.”

            “Well,” Captain Singh thinks, “I still don’t like it.”

            At this instance, Barry finally barges onto the scene with his gear.  He’s rolling it behind him as he goes to join his friends over by the scene of the crime.  Nearby, a man lies facedown on the ground, a puddle of blood underneath.

            “Allen!” Sing calls, “Finally! I knew you’re streak was going to come to an end sooner or later.”

            “Yeah, Barry,” Joe agrees, “usually you’re here in a… _flash_. Anything hold you up?”

            Barry blushes, remembering what happened earlier.  “Just my two left feet,” he mumbles as he gets out his tools, “what happened here?”

            Eddie walks over to the victim, and flips him over.  When the face is revealed, there is no immediate entry wounds, but blood trails under his nostrils, eyes, and from his ears.  “There’s no visible sign of death,” Eddie explains to Barry, who is already taking pictures, “but our guess was that he was poisoned… but there’s nothing here that we can say that for certain.”

            Barry moves closer to the body just as Eddie moves away.  “Thanks for the details…” Barry starts as Eddie starts to walk away to converse with some of the surrounding officers, “Eddie.”

            Barry resumes his work as Joe moves closer to Barry and out of earshot of the rest of the team. “So, Barry,” Joe says, eyes looking anywhere but on the man he’s speaking to, “you got any idea as to who might have done this?  Does it fall under our jurisdiction… or _yours_?”

            Barry is moving closer, swabbing the inside of the man’s mouth for a sample.  He’s about to move away, when he notices a stain on the corner of the man’s cheek.  Producing another swab, he gently collects the evidence before moving back and responding to his father figure.  “I don’t know yet,” Barry starts, continuing to look around the body for clues, “this man has shown the signs of a poison victim, but it looks like a new strain of poison. It’s something I can’t tell from first glance, I’m going to need to go to the lab to see what type of poison this man was given.

            “The lab or _the_ lab?”

            Barry rolls his eyes and smiles, “The police lab.  For now, this doesn’t look like anything that might involve a costume.” He’s about to move, but something catches his eyes in the fisted hand of the guard.  “Joe,” Barry motions, eyes not leaving the hand, “can you hand me a pair of gloves?”

            Joe nods, and moves to hand Barry what he requested.  Barry slips them on and goes to unfurl the clenched muscles, picking up a very uncommon thing to find in an industrial warehouse.

            “What is it you found?” Joe asks, brows scrunching in confusion.

            “I think it’s a… leaf of some kind,” Barry answers, slipping the confusing plant piece into a plastic baggy, slipping it closed.  He gets up and removes the gloves, tucking them into his back pocket as he moves back towards his pack.

            ‘ _What could a leaf be doing in that dead man’s hand…’_ Barry thinks, his head bowed in concentration.

            So much so, he doesn’t notice the man in front of him… until it’s too late.

            _SLAM._

“Oh God!  Not again!”

            The entire police team at the site turns their head as they look at what Barry has just done. Some start to giggle, but when they realize whom Barry slammed into, they turn away in nervousness. All except Captain Singh, Joe, and Eddie: the latter two in varying states shock and laughter, the former making his way to try and do damage control.

            And Barry… Barry is trying for the second time that day, in less than an hour, to clean up coffee he spilled on an unsuspecting victim: this time with the discarded gloves from his pocket instead of napkins.

            “I am so sorry,” Barry starts to babble, “I have no idea what’s wrong with me today. I must have walked under a ladder today, or something.  Uh, can you believe this isn’t the first time I’ve done this?”

            “I _think_ I can believe it.”

            Barry looks up, eyes wide and face dark, as he realizes that the man he spilled coffee on wasn’t just any man, but the man from before, at Jitters.  He must have changed shirts in the short time they ran into each other, but in futility as Barry once again ruined what must have been an expensive white button down.

            “I-I-Oh my God, I-um, are you stalking me?” Barry stutters out a response.  A stupid response, as he feels ridiculous the minute it leaves his mouth.  The man must think so to, as he chuckles at Barry’s ability to embarrass himself in the quickest way possible.  He’s not the fastest man alive for nothing!

            “No, I just happen to own this building,” the man replies, blue eyes burning with delight.

            “Wait, wha-“

            “Barry!” Captain Singh barges into the conversation, pulling the attention of both men towards him, “Mr. Wayne, I’m so sorry for him.  We don’t _usually_ let him out of the building unless it’s important.”

            “Wayne?” Barry questions, but then it starts to click as he remembers seeing that name in magazines, newspapers, on the sign outside the warehouse he walked into. He then realizes he might have done more damage then he meant to.

            “Bruce Wayne,” he holds out his hand for Barry to shake (which he does because even though there is no way to recover from what he’s done he still has manners) “billionaire, CEO of Wayne Enterprises, and apparently a speed bump.”

            “It’s-it’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Wayne,” Barry squeaks out, his hand held in that of Wayne’s strong, warm grip.  In fact, Barry is so distracted by how warm it is, that he forgets to let go.  Wayne looks down at their joined hands, then back at Barry. This goes on for a few minutes before Barry gets the hint and finally releases him.

            “Sorry, Mr. Wayne,” Barry apologizes again.

            “Please, call me Bruce,” Bruce chuckles, “and you can stop apologizing.  I can always get a new shirt, I don’t mind.”

            “Right, right…” Barry trails off, trying (and failing) to look anywhere but into the eyes of the man before him.  It’s like they’re burning, blue suns, and just being within their line of vision makes him uncomfortable in a certain way he doesn’t have the time to figure out.

            “If there’s anything we can do, anything at all,” Singh continues, speaking directly to Wayne, “to not only speed up this investigation or to make up for the actions of Mr. Allen here, please let us know.”

            Bruce seems to think this over for a minute, before finally looking at Captain Singh. “Well, if you can give me a few minutes alone with… Mr. Allen, I think I can settle this little matter.”

            “As you wish,” Captain Singh says, but before he leaves shoots Barry a look that screams ‘ _Screw this up, I’ll screw you up.’_ Barry gulps.

            “Look, if you want me to cover the cost of the coffee, or the shirt, I’ll be more than happy to-“ Barry says, until he is interrupted by Bruce’s hand going up in the ‘stop’ sign. Barry is confused, but knows when it’s time to be silent.

            “I’m not expecting you to pay for anything,” Bruce starts, “however… maybe there is something you can do for me.”

            “Anything,” Barry responds, already expecting to promise his first-born West-Allen baby to this man.

            “Allow me the chance to get to know you better… over dinner.  Tonight.”

            _‘What?’_

            “What?”

            Barry is surprised, shocked to say the least.  Usually when he spills things on people they just yell at him and tell him to, in no uncertain language, to leave.  This is the first time he’s ever scored over a potential lawsuit.

            “I find you interesting,” Bruce continues, “and I would really appreciate the chance to get to know you better than just over these two coffees.”

            Barry chuckles awkwardly, looks down at his feet in embarrassment.

            “So… what do you say? Meet me outside that coffee shop we first bumped into, say, around 8?”

            Barry is at a loss for words at once.  He’s stuttering, he can feel that.  His first instinct is to say no, that he’s already in a relationship with someone. But then Iris flashes into his mind with the words “…see other people…” and he realizes that isn’t a possibility. And then he realizes, this could work. Nothing says, “I tried,” like a billionaire.

            “Sure,” he smiles awkwardly, “Jitters at 8.”

            “Great,” Bruce smiles, backing away from him, “wear something dressy.”  With that, he takes his leave from the warehouse.  Just in time, as Singh, Joe, and Eddie surround him with questions.

            “I hope you were able to resolve this issue without it costing us Allen,” are the first words out of Singh’s mouth.

            ‘ _Gee, it’s great to feel appreciated,’_ Barry snidely says to himself. Because he’s pretty sure that would cost him a job if he said it aloud.

            “We did,” is what he says instead, moving towards his pack like he originally planned and putting away the swabs he took.

            “What did you do Allen,” Eddie questions mockingly, “promise to be his butler for a week? Dry clean pretty boy’s expensive shirt?”

            “For your information, Detective Thawne,” Barry responds coldly, “he told me all he wanted was dinner.”

            All three men fall silent, to the amusement of Barry.

            “He means he wants you to… pay for his meals?” Eddie guesses, the only option he sees as being the most reasonable.

            “No,” Barry sighs, “he wants to take me out to dinner.  He finds me “interesting”.”

            Again, the three men are confused.  Sure they know Barry is interesting, all for different reasons, but how interesting can he be for a billionaire to want to take him out to dinner.  But then Eddie is called away by some of the cops, and Singh just wants to not think about it so he leaves.  All that’s left is Joe and Barry.

            “So you told him no?” Joe asks, uncertain as to what Wayne might really want Barry.

            “I told him I’d meet him outside Jitters, Joe,” Barry tells him, kind of hurt that no one seems to think he can land a billionaire.  He isn’t all that unfortunate looking.

            “But what about Iris?” Joe questions, “Do you think she’ll be okay with your… date?”

            “I don’t think she’ll mind,” Barry responds testily, “in fact, I think she’d be all for it.”

            Joe is again at a lost, as he is still in the dark about Iris’s plan.  He’s about to ask Barry what he means, but Eddie barges in with a tablet in his hands.

            “The guys got some surveillance footage, and you won’t believe what they found on here,” he says, pulling up the clip with his fingers.  The video starts to play, showing the guard doing his duty to protect… whatever the Hell is in this warehouse.  But, fast-forward, and he pulls a gun on an approaching figure.

            A woman makes her way onto the scene, and approaches the man, apparently ignoring the gun that seems to be trailing her.  Suddenly, for the strangest reasons, the man starts to lower his gun, until it drops onto the floor. He extends his arms, coming to embrace the woman in the picture until the screen suddenly stops filming.

            “What did I just see?” Joe asks.

            “Something that falls under his jurisdiction,” Eddie says off-handedly, jerking his head in Barry’s direction.

            “Can you check the security footage to see if there is any other footage of the mystery woman? And to what broke the camera in the first place?” Joe continues, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose.

            “On it,” Eddie answers, moving towards the rest of the crew to relay Joe’s orders.

            Joe then turns to Barry. “We are having this conversation later. But for now, I want you to go see what Cisco and Caitlin have to say about this.  I have to go meet Iris for an early dinner, she says she has something to tell me.”

            Barry’s glad Joe moves away from him, because he doesn’t think he could keep Iris’s secret from Joe even if he tried.

            He’s packing up his bag, getting it ready for some “instant travel” when he realizes he hasn’t put away the leaf.  He searches his pockets, and the surrounding area, but finds no plastic baggie or the contents within.

            ‘ _Strange,_ ’ Barry thinks, ‘ _Very strange…_ ’ 

* * *

 

            “Sir? Are you certain no one will notice missing evidence?”

            In the car, a greying Butler sits in the front seat, eyes on the road but mind on the conversation. Bruce Wayne sits in the backseat, turning the plastic baggie in his hands over, but only giving half his focus on the leaf.  The other half is on the forensic analyst in the warehouse.

            “They won’t,” he reasons, “there was still some left at the scene of the crime.  There’s more where this came from.”

            “And I’m certain there must be _other_ things on their mind besides the crime,” the Butler trails off, smiling to himself. Bruce finally looks up and into the rearview mirror to meet the eyes of the man at the wheel.

            “Is that supposed to be some kind of a joke, Alfred?” Bruce questions, eyebrow raised in a challenge.

            “I’m just saying, you must have left some heads turning by your visit,” Alfred says slowly, trying to look innocent but failing, “By the way, should I make the reservations when we get back to the hotel, or lay out a suit for the evening.”

            Bruce smirks, pocketing the plastic baggie with a shake of his head.  “What you can do is hope that I don’t fire you when we get back.”

            “Oh, sir, how ever will you be able to survive without me,” Alfred begs sarcastically, eliciting a chuckle from his companion.

            “Just drive, old man,” Bruce says, turning his head to look out the window.  Relaxing for a few short minutes, he is startled when he sees a speeding blur pass his vehicle, blinking in surprise, making sure he saw what he saw.

            “Everything alright, Master Bruce?”

            “Yes Alfred,” Bruce sits back, pondering, “I’m fine…”

* * *

 

            Iris stands at the counter of the family kitchen, tossing the salad.  The only problem with this, is that the salad was done being tossed three minutes ago.  She’s just been repeating the motion, lost in worry over how she will tell her father in a way that won’t hurt him.  With Barry it was easy: there wasn’t any possibility of him leaving that conversation without being hurt.  But he’s resilient, so Iris tries not to worry too much how harsh her words might have been.

            Her dad is a completely different story.

            She promised she would always be there for her father, after everything that happened with her mother, Iris wasn’t sure if he would have been able to make it without her. It’s one of the main reasons she chose to go to a college so close to home, rejecting the offer to travel far away. She told her father it was because it was more cost effective to stay here, but… he never saw the scholarship letters.

            Now, though, she sees no other option but for her to leave.  Like she told Barry, staying in Central City is like poison right now. She needs to get away, take a breather, in a place where no one knows her and no one expects anything from her.

            She just hopes she can help him see what she does.

            Iris is so lost in thought, she doesn’t even realize her father is home until he’s kissing her on the cheek and breaking her from her reverie.

            “Hey Iris,” he says, picking up the salad and bringing it towards the table, “what’s on your mind?”

            “Oh… nothing,” she says, moving towards the oven to check on the dinner.  It looks ready, so she turns down the heat, grabs the mitts, and takes out the food.  She places it on the table where her father has already taken his seat, a bottle of wine she placed earlier now in his hand and being poured into his glass.

            “The good wine… my favorite food…” Joe looks around the table, swirling the cup in his hand, “why do I get the feeling you’re going to tell me something I don’t want to hear?”

            “What?” Iris chuckles nervously, “Can’t I make a nice dinner just for the sake of it?”

            “You can,” Joe concedes, “but my detective instincts tell me that today isn’t just any ordinary day.” He reaches over to grab her hand. “You know if you have anything to tell me, anything at all, I’m here to listen.”

            Iris looks down at the hands, watching her father rub his thumb over her hand, practicing the words in her head before she says it.

            “Well,” she starts, “I do have news.  I… am taking a leave of absence from my job.”

            “Okay?” Joe says, not sure why that would require such a fancy meal, “You know I support any career decisions you make-“

            “Good,” Iris interrupts, “because the reason I’m leaving my job, is because I was offered a once-in-a-lifetime chance in Metropolis.”

            Joe is quiet, too quiet. Iris looks up to see him in deep thought, almost as if he is staring _through_ her.

            “Dad?” Iris whispers, but gets no response.  Instead, Joe takes a long sip from his glass.

            “You’re leaving.”

            It’s not a question, it’s a statement of fact.  He says it with no uncertainty, and with no hint of emotion in his voice. Iris should feel scared as to not knowing how he feels, but instead she feels… free.  As if Joe coming to this realization was the final chain she had to break and once that was gone she can fly away.

            “I have to,” she explains, “staying here… it’s not good for me.  With everything that’s been happening… that will happen… it’s too much. This came at the right time.”

            “But what about Bar-“ he starts, but then thinks back to what Barry said at the scene of crime, and starts to connect the dots.  He looks up at Iris, “You told him first, didn’t you?”

            “He needed to hear first,” Iris explains, “what I’m doing affects him more than you.”

            “I’m your father,” Joe grits out, “I think I should be the one to hear life-changing news first!”

            Iris matches his angry glare with one of her own: “At least you know where you stand with me, Barry doesn’t. I’m leaving so I can understand myself better, so Barry and I both make this decision with clear heads. I want to know if the love I feel for Barry is what he wants… or if it’s something different. And if I’m going to be getting away, at least I can get a nice recommendation to put on my resume.”   

            Joe and Iris stare down, but in the end it’s Joe who relents.  He looks away for a second, before looking back at Iris with a soft, sad smile.

            “There’s no chance I can convince you out of this, is there?” Joe asks, but he already knows the answer.

            “I’m going, and I don’t know when I’ll be back,” Iris confirms for him.

            Joe chuckles darkly, “You’re just like your mother: smart, beautiful, but stubborn as a damn mule.”

            Iris gets up from her chair to give Joe a strong hug, one that he returns.  “Don’t worry, I’ll call, I’ll write, I’ll even send up a smoke signal.  I’m leaving for myself, and no matter what happens, what went on in the past, I love you and will always love you.”

            Joe gets teary-eyed near the end of the hug.  “I know baby girl,” he whispers, “I’ll always love you too.”

            She returns to her seat, and smoothens out her skirt.  “Now that that’s settled, let’s finish our quickly cooling dinner.”

            They both share a laugh as they dig in.  Halfway through the meal, Joe looks up at Iris.

            “You know I’m holding you to that smoke signal.”

            “If I don’t get arrested while setting the fire, you’ll get it.”

* * *

 

            Barry is in the lab, looking through the digital files, when he feels eyes on the back of his neck. He looks behind him to see Caitlin Snow giving him an amused look while leaning against the doorway.

            “Hey Caitlin,” Barry says, returning to his work, “what brings you in at this hour?”

            “I just came by to check up on some things,” she says, walking in, “but I get the feeling I should be cancelling the plans I made tonight.”

            Barry smiles, eyes never leaving the screen, “You don’t have to, I’m just trying to match samples of what I found at the scene of a recent crime to common poisons.”

            “Meta?” Caitlin asks, coming to look over his shoulder at the screen.

            “Yeah,” Barry responds, “I think she has something to do with plant control.  Plus, from the samples I took, I figured out she was able to poison the guy through kiss.”

            “Kiss?” Caitlin asks incredulously, looking at Barry.  He finally looks away to meet her gaze.

            “Kiss,” he repeats back.

            He goes back to work as Caitlin moves away towards another area to help out.  “At least we can’t say our job is boring,” she mutters to herself.

            Barry stops what he’s doing and turns around.  “You don’t have to help out if you have somewhere else to be Caitlin,” Barry says, “I think I’ve almost cracked it.”

            Caitlin gives Barry a dry look. “Please, Barry, you look as if you’ve been here for hours, you need a fresh set of eyes.  Plus, I don’t mind cancelling.  That’s actually why I came here.”

            Barry smiles again, “Oh? What am I saving you from?”

            “Family Reunion,” Caitlin grimaces, “I can’t live through another dinner with my visiting cousins. It’d be fine if I at least had Ronnie with me but… you know.”

            “I understand,” Barry comes to put his hand on his shoulder, offering a small gesture of friendship. She smiles back at him, then goes to bring the files up on the screen she’s looking at.

            “Anyway I’m not missing much. I was on my way over there before coming here, so I can call and tell them I can’t make it. Such a shame, they made a reservation at La Boux’s at 8, but- what’s the matter?” she stops, noticing the look of panic that flit across her friend’s face.

            “What time is it?” Barry asks, scared to hear what she’s going to say.

            “It’s 7:55, why?” Caitlin responds, looking up from her watch to see Barry start to move away.

            “I got a date to meet in five minutes,” Barry yells while slow running, “sorry to leave you but thanks for the help!”

            “Wait, Barry!” Caitlin calls, but is too late, as the Scarlet Speedster is already out of the room. She’s alone, kicking the floor with her heel.  “Why do I get myself into these situations.”

            Barry on the other hand is a blur, running from STAR Labs and towards his house.  He whizzes through the door and into the shower, giving himself a quick cleaning before drying off and heading towards his room to pick out an outfit.

            Downstairs, Iris and Joe have finished their dinner and are just talking about what she will be doing in Metropolis when they hear the whizzing.

            “Is that Barry?” Iris asks, “I wonder what he’s doing here?”

            “He,” Joe starts, but realizes telling Iris how Barry has managed to land himself a date so quickly might not be the best thing, “He must be here to drop something off. Probably won’t be long.”

            “Probably a good thing,” Iris says, “we don’t have any food left to offer him!”

            The two share a good laugh as they hear the tell tale whirring sound of Barry speeding out of the house and back outside.

* * *

 

            Bruce stands outside Jitters, hands in his pocket watching the people pass back and forth as he waits. He got there early, by at least five minutes he guesses, but he’s not feeling nervous: not at all.

            “Hey! Sorry I’m late!”

            Bruce looks to his side as he sees Barry jog over to where he’s standing.  He’s dressed in a sharp red blazer, over a black button down with black skinny jeans and leather shoes.  Bruce decides that red is the perfect color on Barry.

            Bruce himself is dressed in a tight grey suit, with a white shirt and black tie.  It’s what he usually wears, but the special thing about this suit is how expensive it is.

            “You’re not late,” Bruce smiles, “just in time, actually.”

            Barry smiles wider, “Phew. That’s a relief, I lost track of time at work but my friend reminded me what time it was, and I was able to… well, get here.”

            “Then remind me to thank your friend when I see them,” Bruce responds, grabbing Barry’s hand and pulling him along, “now let’s get going, I’ve made reservations at La Boux, have you heard of it?”

            Barry chuckles, but paces himself so he’s right next to Bruce, “You know… I have.”

* * *

 

            On the docks, a shipment had just come in that workers are starting to unload.  The guards stand at alert, guns ready while the workers move the cargo from the hull to the trucks waiting to leave with its load.

            “You think anyone’s going to try and rob this shipment?” one of the young guards ask a veteran.

            “If they do,” he says, “they’ll have a bell full of lead soon enough.”

            The younger guy cracks a smile at the older man’s joke, just as a strong breeze kicks up. It’s a windy night, so he pulls at his jacket to keep warm.

            After a few minutes, the night seems to get quieter.  He turns to see what could make the heavy equipment mute, but finds all the workers have stopped working.  Instead, they were lazing about, not earning their paychecks.

            “Hey, Morgan, I think something’s going down,” the young guy tries to get the attention of his friend, but gets no response.  “Frankie?”

            He turns to see his friend, who was standing rigid before, now in a position similar to the ones of the workers. His gun is off to the side while he stares off into the distance with a smile on his face.

            “Relax, dude,” the older man says, “you take this job thing _waaaaaay_ too seriously.”

            “Frankie?” the younger kid asks, backing away and into another person.  He turns to find a red headed woman in a tight black and green number with a mischevious glint in her eyes.

            “You should listen to your friend,” she says with a smirk, “if Frankie says relax… then _relaaaaax_.”  She blows into her open palm and dust flies into the younger man’s face, and instantly the shift from scared to carefree is instantaneous as he joins his friend Frankie in his ‘early break-time’.”

            “Good boy.” 

* * *

 

            “And so he falls onto his back and the cake he got goes flying until it ends up all over his face,” Barry regales Bruce with a story of Cisco after their first mission. To celebrate he got a cake with the lightning symbol on it and… let’s just say he wasn’t laughing. It was unfortunate at the time, but perfect to tell as Bruce laughs into his drink.

            The dinner was nice, both having a great time.  Barry was having a better time than expected, as he just assumed it was going to be a short, one-time apology… but he seems to be hitting it off with the man. He can definitely see himself hanging out with him again.

            The waiter comes by with the check, and Bruce puts his card down.

            “Flashing your wealth at me, Mr. Wayne?” Barry smiles coyly, laughing internally at the look on Bruce’s face.

            “I don’t need to use my vast amount of money to woo you, Mr. Allen,” Bruce smiles in challenge. He takes his card back from the waiters as he and Barry get up to exit.  He continues, “I’ve been banking on my winning personality and my white teeth.”

            “Well you got one thing,” Barry concedes as he walks through the open door Bruce holds open for him.

            “Do I?” Bruce asks as he follows him.

            “You have very white teeth.”

            “Ha.  Ha.”

            The duo walks together in silence, enjoying the night while making their way to nowhere, enjoying each other’s company.

            ‘ _This is really nice,_ ’ Barry thinks looking at the profile of his companion, _‘definitely better than spending a night alone in pity.  Waaaaaay better… and prettier._ ’

            Just as the mood was feeling just right, Barry feels it: his phone.  He stops to look down at his pocket, and gives a small apology to Bruce who stopped as well.  “Sorry,” he says, pulling the device out of his pocket, “I have to take this.”

            He turns away from his date and answers the phone.  “Whatever this is about,” he says, “it better be good.”

            “Barry,” Caitlin says, “I have a lead on the poisons you were looking at.  They’re a mix of very rare plant toxins that are indigenous to rainforests.”

            “And?” Barry presses, looking over at Bruce to see he, too, his on his phone.

            “And,” Caitlin continues, “a silent alarm was tripped over by the docks by the same person these poisons come from.  Right now there is no cure to her poison touch, so be careful.”  She hangs up on Barry, and he curses his luck.  He turns back around to see Bruce has finished his call as well.

            “That was… work,” Barry says, “I’ve gotta run.  But I did have a great time with you, and would love to do this again.”  Barry backs away until he reaches the corner and breaks out into a run.

            Bruce, however, failed to get his attention as he was leaving.  “I did, too, Barry,” Bruce sarcastically says, rolling his eyes, “here’s my number, call me any time, I’ll be here for awhile.”

            “Sir?” Alfred says from behind, having pulled up in that short amount of time.

            “Nothing Alfred,” Bruce sighs, pinching the space between his brows, “just talking to myself. I need you to take me to the docks.”

            “A little nightcap, sir?” Alfred smiles.

            “You could say that.”

* * *

 

            Barry gets to the dock, clad in his Flash costume, and finds no one around.  Well… no one conscious.  The guards and workers were all passed out… or worse. But a quick check to the pulse of one of the bodies lets Barry breathe a sigh of relief.

            But he does get nervous when he sees the area is covered in vines.  He’s walking slowly through the area, alert to any activity that might happen. Unfortunately he misses the vine that slithers underneath.

            “Oof!” Barry trips, the vine tightening around his ankle.  It slithers up his body and wraps him up, so tight he can’t move. He’s struggling, but can’t seem to break free.

            “Look what the plant dragged in.”

            Barry feels himself being pulled up, until he’s face to face with the woman from the video. She’s gorgeous… the video doesn’t do her justice.  But Barry will bring her to it.

            “Well aren’t you a cutie?” she says, finger under her chin as she looks him up and down.

            Barry struggles harder. “And aren’t you a criminal?” he fires back, feeling himself starting to get free.

            The woman notices, and shakes her head.  “We can’t be having any of that now, darling,” she drawls as she blows what must be spores from her hand and directly into Barry’s face.  He tries not to breathe in, but they end up entering his body and he can’t help his muscles as they start to loosen.

            “What…ngg…are you doing?” Barry gets out, feeling his entire body go slack in the hold.

            “Don’t fight it, sugar,” she says, “let my pollen do its thing and relax while I finish up what I was doing here.”

            “Well then you better make it quick,” Barry says from where his head has lolled onto his chest, “because I have a feeling this won’t last long.”

            The woman stops, thinking for a minute, before a smile crosser her face.  “Maybe I should try something more permanent then.” She puckers her lips.

            Barry feels his head being lifted up by the vines as she slowly steps closer to Barry. Terror flits across his face as he doesn’t know if his body can metabolize the poison fast enough to survive. She gets closer, face taking up everything in Barry’s vision.  He’s sorry the last thing he has to see is her face, so he closes his eyes and tries to picture something more pleasant.  Bruce. Iris.  Linda.

            “Pucker up, prettyboy…”

            Her lips are ever so close now…

            _Swoosh_.

            Nothing. Barry opens his eyes to see the woman looking off to the side with an angry look on her face.

            “Damn,” she swore, “I was hoping you wouldn’t come to ruin the fun.”

            Barry realizes that this is his chance.  He starts to feel his body gain control again and vibrates at a speed fast enough that he bursts free from the vines.

            “Time to finish this…” Barry starts, but realizes that the mystery woman vanished from sight. He pouts, upset he can’t end this tonight, but turns when he hears the sound of fabric rustling against the breeze.

            His eyes catch what looks like a cape disappearing behind a building, and he’s even more confused than before.

            “Barry?” Caitlin calls in from the communicator, “you haven’t checked in, everything going alright?”

            “Yeah, everything’s fine now…” Barry trails off, looking around to see if there might be any clues left by the mystery people, when his eyes catch sight of a very shiny object lodged into the concrete.

            “So we have a new prisoner for the jail?” Caitlin asks.

            “No,” Barry says, reaching for the object, “the crazy plant lady took me by surprise, and I almost got her kiss of death.”

            “I take it you survived,” Caitlin says.

            “Yeah, but thanks to the timely intervention by a stranger,” Barry responds, not believing what he’s holding in his hands.

            “I take it you didn’t get a good look at the stranger, then.”

            “No, but he did leave a memento behind.”

            “What is it?” Caitlin ask, curious since she can’t see it for herself… yet.

            “I think it’s supposed to be a boomerang but it’s in a weird shape…”

            “What does it look like?”

            “I think… I think it’s supposed to be a bat.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you enjoy it?  
> I was surprised some of you guessed who the guy was Barry banged into in the coffee shop.  
> Anyway, comment if you enjoyed, kudos me if you liked it, and have a nice day!


	3. New Starts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Iris says her final goodbyes as Barry realizes one goodbye could be another's hello. And we find out more about our mystery savior.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took me forever to get this posted, but with the Flash finale (which this is obviously diverging from) and I had summer classes, my schedule was a mess. But anyway, enjoy the read!

            “So there was a robbery, involving a very gorgeous, very deadly plant-based villain… and you decided to not involve me!”

            Cisco’s question was more accusatory than inquisitive, and neither Barry nor Caitlin decided to respond.  Caitlin was at the computer; analyzing different chemicals Barry picked up from the crime scene and the strange weapon his savior left him.  Barry, on the other hand, was lost in thought, staring at the bat-themed boomerang as if it can tell him who it was that saved him.

            “I mean I know I was somewhere important… but I could have gotten out of it!” Cisco continues to ramble to no one, lost in his own pity party.

            “Cisco when you checked in, you were calling collect from the hospital,” Caitlin fires back, not looking up from the screen.

            Cisco, shocked that someone actually responded, recovered quickly. “It was just my brother. He twisted his ankle, and I was the only one free to pick him up… apparently… bet you know what that feels right, Barry?”

            Barry, still not listening, doesn’t respond.  Cisco finally looks over at his friend, and gives him a friendly: “Barry?”

            “Huh? What?” Barry splutters, thrown off the inner track that are his thoughts.

            “I was saying how you must know what it feels like to do whatever you want at night,” Cisco explains, “nothing being interrupted by super heroics.”

            Barry looks away, blushing, “Well, actually-“

            “Actually,” Caitlin interrupts, finally craning her neck away from the computer, “Barry had a date tonight.”

            Cisco pauses again, slowly turning his head until he fixes Barry with a strange look of excitement and curiosity.  Barry feels more scared here than when he was trapped by that vine-controlling vixen.

            “Really,” Cisco drawls out, walking closer to Barry as if interrogating him, “You’re on a date and forget to mention it to your best buddy Cisco? You couldn’t have called and said ‘Hey Cisco, I’m going on a date and her really attractive friend likes nerds, get dressed’?”

            “Well, actually-“ Barry tries to say, but is interrupted again by Caitlin.

            “Please Cisco,” Caitlin fully turns, crossing her arms over chest, “Barry was almost late.  He wouldn’t have had time to call you.  Plus that scenario is totally implausible.”

            “Iris has tons of friends,” Cisco defends Barry, throwing his arm over his increasingly annoyed best friend, “I’m sure she has someone for little ol’ me.”

            “I mean,” Barry tries again, “if I were-“

            “Cisco stick to getting girls on your own merit,” Caitlin throws out, walking closer to join the two men, “Actually show the skills you claim to have.”

            “I’m hurt,” Cisco uses his other arm to throw over his chest like he’s been shot, “How can I ever get a girl if you’re always destroying my self-confidence, Caitlin?”

            Barry starts to speak one last time: “Guys-aaagghh!!”

            Instead of Caitlin or Cisco interrupting, this time it was his phone ringing obnoxiously.  The other two back away slowly as he picks the phone up with a righteous fury.

            “What!?!” he barks.

            “…I enjoyed our night together, too, glad to hear.”

            Instantly, all the fight is drained out of him and instead a more common emotion, embarrassment, sweeps through him.

            “Oh, no, I’m sorry,” Barry hops up from where he is sitting, “You just called at a bad time.  I did enjoy tonight, really.”

            Caitlin and Cisco exchange looks, and smile at Barry.

            “Tell Iris I said ‘hi’,” Cisco says, distracting Barry from what Bruce was trying to tell him over the phone.

            Barry gives him a look, but instead a new thought pops into his head. “Sorry Bruce, one of my co-workers was being rude, when was the next time you wanted to see me?” With that, he turns from his friends and goes somewhere he can continue the conversation in private.

            Both scientists’ expressions are shocked, and they have to spend a few seconds processing this new information.

            “When did Iris change her name to ‘Bruce’?” Cisco asks dumbly, before Caitlin slaps him over the head for even considering that as a possibility.

            “Help me with this,” she orders him, “then when Barry gets back we can grill him on his boyfriend.”

            Cisco sighs, but follows her.

            Out in the hall, Barry is having fun talking to Bruce.  They already made plans to go out for lunch the following day, and now they are just shooting the breeze.  Barry is giggling, playing with the evidence by turning it around in his hands.

            “Listen, as much as I like talking to you,” Barry says, “I do have to get back to work.  Tomorrow?”

            “It’s a date.”

            Barry finishes the call and looks down at the device in his hands, a goofy smile in place.

            “What’s with the smile?”

            Barry lifts his head, and in an instant reality comes crashing into him. Iris is standing in the hallway, giving him a strange, concerned look.  He doesn’t know how long he was out in the hall, how long she was there, what she heard, but he somehow feels dirty, like he was just caught cheating. But, for that to happen, he and Iris would have to be dating.  Which they aren’t.

            “Oh, no-nothing,” Barry stumbles, hiding his phone and trying to look as if he was relaxed.  Iris didn’t buy it for a second.  But, knowing Barry, he would tell her… eventually… actually, maybe she should rip the Band-Aid off herself this time.

            “So why are you here so late?” Barry interrupts her train of thought. He’s right in front of her now, so she has to crane her neck a bit to see his eyes.

            ‘Another day, then,’ she thinks.  “I came to see if Caitlin and Cisco were here,” she says, “I leave tomorrow, and want to get the sappy goodbyes out of the way now.

            Barry smiles wistfully.  “Yeah,” he motions, “they’re in there.  Follow me!”

            Barry leads Iris towards the lab room, making sure to be as loud with his footsteps as possible.  When he gets to the room he already sees his friends, questions on the tips of their tongues. But with one small gesture he has killed their curiosity out of fear for their lives.  Iris follows shortly after.

            “Iris!” Caitlin says, moving towards the darker woman, “what a surprise! What are you doing here at this hour?”

            “Yeah,” Cisco agrees, coming closer as well, “I mean a girl like you should be out… not like out, out, like on a date but… you know… out.”

            Caitlin and Barry have varying degrees of disbelief on their face, while Iris is just confused.  But like before, she decides to just leave that area alone.

            “Well… I just came here to say my goodbyes-“

            “You’re dying!” Cisco gasps in fear.  Barry slams his face into his palm in the background.

            “What? No!” Iris assures the collected group, “I’m leaving for Metropolis in the morning.  I was offered an internship at the Daily Planet, and decided to take it.  So… you won’t be seeing my face around here for a while!” The joke falls flat on the other three, as each understand the unspoken reasons for taking such an offer.

            Caitlin is the first to break the silence.  She moves in for a hug, crushing Iris in her tight grip. “I’m going to miss you,” she says, “It’s going to be hard without another woman in the group. I’m going to drown in the testosterone.”

            Iris laughs, but even she can hear how watery it is, as the thing she promised not to do starts to happen. 

            “Caitlin,” Cisco jokes, “that was terrible.  Look, you’ve made Iris cry.”

            Iris moves away from Caitlin and wipes her eyes with the back of her hand. “No, no, it’s fine,” she soothes, “it’s just my emotions finally catching up with me.”

            “Well then let me keep up,” Cisco says as he moves forward into the next hug. Iris hugs him back, and from the corner of her eye she sees Caitlin tearing up as well, and can’t help but roll her eyes.

            “Come on,” Iris says, unfolding her other arm for Caitlin to fold into as she hugs her yet again.

            Barry watches from afar, deciding to let the trio have their own special farewell, and can’t help the twinge in his heart at seeing Iris, his best friend, moving on from his life.  He knows she’ll be back, but will she be the same person that left? Will he be the same person? The future seemed so black and white, until Iris decided to throw in some shades of grey… add Bruce and the weird vigilante… and his life is even crazier than before. But unlike then, he doesn’t know how it’s all going to end.

            “Well,” Iris breaks away from the hug, “I need to be going to bed. I have an early flight tomorrow.”

            “Do you need me to give you a lift?” Barry asks, finally joining the conversation.

            “No, no,” she assures, walking out, “I think I’ll take the scenic route home. One last time.”

            Her heels click out of STAR Labs for the last time in a long time.

            It only takes a couple of seconds, but by then Cisco and Caitlin have rejoined Barry’s side.

            “So…” Cisco says, eyes still trained on where Iris just was, “Bruce?”

            Barry’s upper half goes limp.  “Oh my God, really?!?”

* * *

 

            At his desk, Barry can’t help but have his head hit the desk. It’s been a long morning, especially since he barely got any sleep the night before.  And then he had to wake up early in the morning to drive with Joe and Iris to the airport, where many tears were shed and many bones broken from hugs.  And it’s not like he and Joe could even go home to wallow in some misery, they had to head into work. And for a couple of hours, this is where Barry has been: unresponsive, unmoving, and uncaring.

            “Are you awake?”

            “Gah!!”

            Barry jumps from his stool and spills onto the floor, too shocked to respond. All he can see is a grinning billionaire looming above him, the source of the disruption. He has a hand extended, and it might take a couple of seconds but Barry gets enough brainpower to grab it and pull.

            “What are you doing here?” Barry asks, not unhappy by his intrusion but confused.

            Bruce’s smile falters a bit, before it turns into a smirk. “You didn’t forget our date… did you?”

            “Our…” Barry starts, but then remembers the conversation from the night before, “Oh crap, I’m so sorry.  I’m not flaky, I swear, it’s just… a lot happened this morning, and I didn’t get any rest, and-please don’t cancel!”

            Bruce holds his hands up.  “I’m not going to cancel,” he soothes, “but you do look like you need to relax. Why don’t we skip lunch, and you can tell me what’s bothering you.”

            Barry is touched.  His smile smoothens out around the edges, looking less manic and more blissful. He feels warmer inside, for some reason, and can’t help the giddy feeling starting to overtake the sadness.

            Barry reseats himself on the stool while Bruce grabs an office chair. He sits, and gives Barry the sign to go ahead.

            “Well,” Barry starts, “today my best friend, who’s been by my side through the good and the bad, is on a plane heading towards Metropolis. And I can’t help but miss her, you know. It’s only been a couple of hours and I can already feel she’s gone.”

            “You must really care for her,” Bruce observes.

            “Yeah,” Barry muses, lost in thought, “she was amazing: smart, funny, beautiful…”

            Bruce, however, is concerned by the look on Barry’s face. “You two were never…”

            Barry breaks from thought and realizes how he must have sounded. “Oh, no, no,” he laughs awkwardly, “actually, it’s kind of a sore subject.  We were never available at the right time… fate just never seemed to be on our side for it to happen.”

            It’s silent for a bit, before Bruce reaches forward to grab Barry’s hand.

            “Well, I might sound a little bad for saying it but I’m glad,” Bruce says, “that way we have a chance to give this” he holds up their joined hands “a try.”

            Barry looks at the grip, a light blush settling over his cheeks, and can feel even more of the sadness slipping away from him.  Bruce is right, in a way, if he and Iris were together, he never would have thought this… thing between them could work, or even happen!

            “Yeah,” Barry whispers, “we can.”

            It’s an intimate moment.  Blue eyes staring into green.  A general warmth settling throughout both their bodies.  So, obviously, it would be at that moment that Barry’s stomach makes itself known.

            “Is lunch still a possibility?” Barry asks, “Because I am very hungry.”

            “I can tell,” Bruce smirks, pulling himself up and Barry along with him, “come on, I know a really good place close by.”

            “Sounds great!” Barry tells him, allowing himself to be pulled out of his office.

            They are both making their way out of the station, hands still joined, as Barry spots Joe in the crowd.  He mouths the word ‘lunch’ to him, and even though Joe’s eyes follow them in confusion, he still nods his head.  The two disappear behind the doors of an elevator soon after.

            “Did Barry really manage to land a billionaire?”

            Joe turns to see Eddie next to him, just as perplexed as he is.

            “If he treats him right, who am I to judge,” Joe answers, deciding to return to his work.

            “I’m surprised, Joe,” Eddie says, and at Joe’s look decides to clarify, “that you would be so supportive.  I mean… what about Iris?  How does she feel about this?”

            “She doesn’t know,” Joe tells him, “and I would like to keep it that way. Don’t want her to be distracted up in Metropolis.”  He tries to get back to work, but is startled out of his reverie by the broken words of his partner.

            “She’s in Metropolis?”

            Eddie looks innocent and lost, like the harsh years of life haven’t calloused him into who he is today, as his “lost love” is now in another area… and he had no idea.

            “She didn’t tell you, did she?” Joe realizes.  “Dammit,” he whispers under his breath, realizing he now has to fix the mess his daughter left for him.

            In the elevator, Barry is still feeling warm from earlier, until a thought enters his brain.  “Hey, wait a minute…” he says, getting Bruce’s attention, “I never gave you my number!”

            It’s Bruce’s turn to blush, and his eyes start to shift everywhere that aren’t Barry’s knowing gaze.

            “How did you get my-“

            “Look a distraction!”

            “There’s no distrac-oomph!”

            Barry was correct, there was no distraction.  Until Bruce put his lips on Barry’s and decided today, in an elevator, as a distraction, would be the perfect way for their first kiss to go. No build-up.  No romance.  Nothing.

            “Excuse me.”

            It takes a while, but Bruce removes his lips from Barry’s as the duo realize they’ve reached their floor, and the crowd of impatient civilians are through waiting for the couple to finish.

            Barry fixes his hair from where Bruce mussed it, walking out of the elevator with what’s left of his dignity with Bruce right behind him. “You owe me a better kiss,” is all he says as he exits the building.

            “From your reaction I say it was a pretty great kiss,” Bruce jokes, slinging his arm over Barry’s.

            “It’s not the effect I want changed, it’s the ambience,” Barry informs him, “next time I don’t want the kiss to be used as a distraction.”

            “Fine, fine,” Bruce jokes, but can’t help but chuckle at Barry’s scrunched up face of annoyance.

            “Just for that you’re paying for my meal,” Barry says, crossing his arms.

            “I already assumed.”

* * *

             “Ugh, I’m so full!”

            Barry and Bruce are walking back from lunch, hand in hand, stomachs heavy in their bodies.  The place Bruce took them too was rich in calories (and dollars) and with access to an unlimited bank account Barry couldn’t help himself in stuffing his face. He doesn’t know how he’s lived so long eating as a poor person.

            “I’m glad you enjoyed the meal,” Bruce jokes, “but I do hope the company was more enjoyable?”

            “Well,” Barry smiles, batting his eyelids and sidling closer to Bruce, “while the food was good, it didn’t have as much… personality as I would have liked. Thankfully I had you.”

            Bruce swallows, “Thankfully.”

            The air is charged around them, and Barry is leaning in closer and closer. He’s going to do it, he’s going to capture Bruce’s lips between his, maybe use teeth, definitely use tongue, and give Bruce the dessert he deserves.  But, Barry has never been known to be lucky.

            An explosion goes off two blocks away.  Both men turn to each other before rushing towards the sound.

            Leaving a smoking building, besides many of the workers inside it, is a man in a strange helmet and suit, carrying two flamethrowers in hand. On his back is a large device, with wings to make it look as if he is some kind of insect.

            Barry turns to Bruce, “Stay here, I’ll be right back.”  However, his date is no longer in sight, as a crowd of terrified people has swarmed the area.  Barry can’t help but fear for his safety, but realizes the quicker he stops this Mick Rory reject, the safer Bruce-and the town-will be.  He runs to collect his suit, and is back on the street in no time.

            “Hey, Fire Guy,” Barry calls out, “I don’t know if you’ve heard, but we already got a pyro who uses a fancy flamethrower.”

            The man in the suit turns towards Barry, and even though he can’t tell it, he feels the criminal is looking at him with a creepy smile.

            “I heard about you,” he says, moving closer, weapons still out and armed, “they told me you would try to stop me, but I said I could beat you.”

            “Hate to break it to you, but fire is so old school,” Barry smiles, “you’re gonna need to be real creative to get one over on me.”

            The man stops.  “Like this?” In an instant the construct on his back lights up, and he’s off the ground.  Barry has no time to be surprised, as the man swoops down, flames shooting out of his weapons.  Barry barely has enough time to jump out of the way before more columns of heat burn straight towards him.

            It continues like that for a while, Barry dodging the attacks while trying to formulate a way to drop the flying pyromaniac right from the sky. His mind is so focused and divided, that the melted beam of the street lamp catches him by complete surprise when it tips over, right in his path.  He has no time to move out of the way, so he trips and tumbles, hitting the wall of a nearby building.

            Barry is slowly pulling himself up when the muzzle of the weapon is staring right at him.  His eyes widen, and he tries to look past it into the lenses of the mask, but cannot do it.

            “Time to really make you a ‘Scarlet Speedster’,” the arsonist says, finger on the trigger. Barry should be able to move, but cannot find it in him to even lift a finger.  It’s as if his body has frozen, and he cannot flee.  All he can do is close his eyes and wait for the inevitable.

            But after a few seconds of only feeling the usual warmth of the suit, Barry opens his eyes to see the criminal staring off to his right and into a dark alley. His weapon is gone, having been knocked out of his hands by one of those strange bat-shaped boomerangs from the night before.

            “N-no!” the man says, “they said you weren’t going to be hear. I-I’m out of here!” He turns and lights up his jetpack to fly away, but before he can even make it three fit another bat flies from the darkness and hits him right in his fuel tank.  The resulting explosion launches the criminal towards an unsuspecting car, crushing it under the force he was expelled at.

            Barry turns his head from the unconscious criminal towards the alley he was staring at, just in time to catch the ends of a cape.  Again, just like from the night before.  If you didn’t count a different criminal, this would be all sorts of déjà vu.  And even though the mystery of who is behind that cape is slowly eating away at Barry, he knows he has a job to do.  He wraps up the man before returning his suit, and grabbing his gear to do his _other_ job.

* * *

 

            “So you were almost fried by this weird pyro?” Joe asks Barry, after he told his foster father what happened during the fight.

            “Yeah,” Barry says, “but then, like last time, this saved me.” He holds up the evidence of the vigilante, contained in a plastic bag.

            “Is Oliver using a new type of gag now instead of arrows?” Joe asks, looking at the bat-shaped weapon in Barry’s hands.

            “If it was Oliver he would have told us,” Barry scoffs, “besides, he and Felicity are on vacation.  Who knows when he’ll be back.  This is somebody new.”

            “Well,” Joe says, throwing his hand on Barry’s shoulder, “looks like you’ve got a new mystery… and some competition.  Keep up the good work, I need to head over to the other cops and ask what reports they managed to get from the onlookers.”

            “Will do!” Barry answers back, ready to sift through the crime scene for clues. That is, until, a familiar face catches his attention behind the police tape.

            “Barry!” Bruce calls to him, and Barry jogs his way over (no matter how much he wants to speed there).

            “Bruce?” Barry asks once he gets there, “What happened?  I lost you in the crowd?”

            “I know,” Bruce answers “I tried finding you again but it was impossible. And then what with Firefly and the Flash-“

            “Wait,” Barry stops him, “Firefly?”

            “Yeah,” Bruce says, “the criminal.  You know, the one burning everything in sight-“

            “I know, I know,” Barry interrupts, “it’s just… how did you know his name?”

            “He’s a criminal from Gotham,” Bruce answers, “I’m actually surprised he’s here. Last I heard he was rotting away in Black gate.”  Bruce may look curious, but there’s another edge to his voice that says he is thinking about more than just that.  But then that instant is gone as he puts his hand over Barry’s.  “I’m such an idiot,” he chastises himself, “how are you?  Did you manage to find safety?”

            “Yeah,” Barry answers, not ready for him to know just how ‘safe’ he was, “but now I have to sift through the rubbage and try and find some clues. I mean, look at this, what could this be?” He’s holding up the metal bat in the bag, but there are no smiles from Bruce.

            “He’s here, too?” is Bruce’s reply, mouth drawn in a stern line.

            “Wait,” Barry says, mind stopped at Bruce’s reaction, “you know what this is? You know who threw this?”

            “It’s a signature from some crazy guy in a suit who stops criminals,” Bruce informs Barry, but face at an angle as if it’s addressing the evidence.

            “Does he have any powers?”  Barry asks, “Like the Flash?”

            “No,” Bruce answers, “no powers, just gadgets.  All bat-themed.”

            “Well… what’s his name: the Batvenger?  The Bat?” Barry jokes, but not enough to hide how much he wants to know.

            “No,” Bruce answers, “some people call him “Gotham’s Dark Knight”… but to the rest of the city he likes to be known by a simpler name.”

            “Batman.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed! Remember to leave kudos if you liked and review if you really liked it!


	4. Stuck Between a Wall and a Clay Place

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More crimes in Central as Barry tries to stop the villains before they continue their spree of villainy! But when caught off guard, he receives help from his mysterious savior, finally coming face to face with the bat himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took so long, I've been dealing with a lot of stress recently and got caught in a writer's block while trying to figure out how to keep the story moving forward. But I've worked hard and hope you enjoy!

            The edges are smooth and sleek. It’s the color of midnight, with the strength of onyx.  It glides through the air like scissors on wrapping paper, and even for an amateur like himself, Barry was able to hit his target with ease.

            All while looking like a bat.

            Barry still couldn’t wrap his head around the personal touch.

            He can run at speeds faster than anyone or anything possible, and has seen many things that would make a normal person question their sanity, yet he still believe there is a simply complex weapon… shaped like a _bat_.

            “A bat?”

            He’s alone in his lab, so the question goes unanswered.  After leaving the crime scene with Bruce, and seeing him off with another kiss, he decided to read up on as much of “The Batman” as he can.

            And honestly… there’s not much.

            To the records of Gotham City’s Police Department he’s a menace.  He takes the law into his own hand and brings down criminals, madmen, and the occasional costumed baddie.  But then again, Gotham’s police think anything that stops crime is bad… to their second paychecks.  The media… hold similar opinions.  He frightens not Gotham’s criminal underworld but the innocent civilians with his one-man fight against evil, and other flowery words people like this Vicki Vale love to use.

            The only problem with all this hearsay about him is… there’s not one damn image!

            All this talk about “darkness” and “cowls” doesn’t paint the prettiest picture of Gotham’s Batman in his mind.  He must be one ugly sonofa…

            “Allen!”

            “Ah!”

            Captain Singh stands at the entryway of his lab, Joe and Eddie behind him.

            “Just because you’re dating a billionaire doesn’t mean you can quit your day job!” Singh barks, striding into the room with the other two behind him.  Barry quickly hides the bat-themed tool in his drawer before moving to meet the group.

            “No, sir,” Barry responds, “just… letting my mind wander, is all.”

            “Well, call it back,” Singh orders him, “I need you and your mind on this case!”

            “Yes, sir,” Barry sighs, “I’ll get back to looking at what I gathered from the wreckage-“

            “Wrong case, Allen,” Singh informs him, “tell him what you told me, Thawne.”

            Eddie nods at the Captain, then turns to address Barry: “Apparently, while Burning Man was doing his damage, another crime was in progress at the National Bank.”

            “A robbery?” Barry asks, gears starting to turn in his head, “So that means…”

            “The fire fight was a distraction,” Joe finishes.

            “What was stolen?” Barry inquires further, now interested in what is now bigger than just mayhem.

            “We’re still looking into it,” Singh interjects, making his way out of the room, “but for now we can say it wasn’t money.  We’re sending you to the crime scene with West and Thawne, so get your gear together fast!”

            The other three follow him out the door, but pause at the entrance to continue the conversation.

            “So does this robbery have anything to do with a certain leafy villainess?” Barry interrogates further, only to be shut down by his police dad.

            “We’ll find out when we get to the bank, Barry,” Joe tells him, placing one hand on his son’s shoulder, “But whatever’s going on is something big.  You need to be on your A-game.  Focus.” With that he takes his leave.

            Eddie sticks around a beat longer to leave Barry with a passing snipe.  “Yeah, so maybe you need to ride solo for awhile.  Wouldn’t be the first time… won’t be the last.”

            Barry scoffs at the jibe while Eddie walks away, not showing how deep those words stung. He waits outside his door a bit longer, choosing to go the childish route and silently repeat Eddie’s last words silently in exaggerated expressions before heading back to the lab.

            It’s only when Barry is almost done putting his gear back together does he remember the parting gift from his shadowy savior.  Deciding to swing by STAR Labs after he was finished at the Bank, he moved forward to grab the metal bat.

            The only problem, however, was that it was no longer where he put it.  He quickly scours his entire lab, twice, but the evidence does not turn up.

            Soon enough he comes to the conclusion he was dreading…It’s missing!

            He’s scratching his head, confused over where it could have gone, when he notices the open window. Barry sticks his head out, and looks up. Just in time to see the edges of a dark cape flittering out of view.

            Barry pounds his fist against the ledge, annoyed that some crazy guy in a costume was able to get one over on him.  He didn’t think the conversation could take that long… and he hid it too.  Which could only mean…

            “That asshole!” 

* * *

 

            “Are you sure it was him?”

            “Oh it was him alright!” Barry yells on his phone outside the bank.  On the other end of the line was Caitlin, who was currently inside Jitters with Cisco on a coffee break.  Fighting crime and solving scientific mysteries requires necessary doses of caffeine. Luckily, they have a tab.

            “Barry, calm down,” Caitlin placates from her seat in the café.  However, her words go unheeded by the riled up speedster on the other end.

            “I mean, who knows how long he was watching me!” Barry continues, “He could have seen me use my speed! Change into costume! He… he… he could have seen me with Bruce!!!”

            “Don’t you think he would have used that information against you by now, if he wanted, Barry,” Caitlin tells him, “And really?  In the lab? Already?”

            “We didn’t do anything like that…yet,” Barry stops with a blush, rubbing the back of his head, “But I still feel dirty.”

            “Well get over it and get back to work, like we are,” Caitlin ends the call with that. She puts the phone down and takes a long sip from her cooling coffee.  When finished with that, she finally notices the look Cisco is giving her. “What?”

            “We’re not at work,” he tells her, lips pulled up slightly.

            “Eh, semantics,” Caitlin waves it off, “Barry is worrying over nothing.  Besides, it’s only the _one_ bat-shaped boomerang.  _We_ still have the other from the night before.”

            Cisco chuckles, “Yeah… unless that ‘Batman’ guy managed to bypass our security and take it back.”

            Caitlin joins him, “Like that would ever happen.”

            They laugh for a few more seconds, before coming to a slow stop.  Their eyes widen, and in their mirrored expressions anyone can see there was a shared realization.

            “He couldn’t…”

            “No…”

            Like the hero they help, both scientists are out of their chairs, bolting out the door of the coffee shop, leaving twin cups of unfinished beverage behind.

            Back with Barry, he is slightly offended with the treatment of his so-called ‘friends’, but decides it is better to stop worrying and concentrate on the task at hand.

            Entering the bank, he takes notice of anything that might be of interest: cataloguing what could and could not be clues.

            He’s only broken from the spell of forensics by the sharp whistle of his foster father Joe, pulling his attention to where it is needed.

            Joe and Eddie stand over the body of a bank teller, the only fatality of the robbery. She’s in the backroom, away from the crowd of witnesses being interviewed by various cops.  Barry crouches next to the corpse, staring into the vacant eyes of the elder woman.

            “We’re still pulling videos,” Joe says, “but from preliminary reports we can safely say Little Miss Green Thumb had no hand in this.”

            “I got that from seeing a dead _woman_ on the ground,” Barry fires back, gloved fingers moving over the body, in search of the clues hidden within the nooks and crannies.

            “It was a gang,” Eddie continues, “about six of them.  The leader took her here and… well that’s where the stories end.”

            “There’s more,” Barry adds, “like why?”

            “My guess,” Joe says, “she was the only one who could get what the bad guys were after.”

            Barry listens, but his eyes are on the hunt: for what, he doesn’t know yet.  But something glistens out of the corner of the woman’s mouth, and he refocuses there.

            “What they take?” Barry asks, collecting a sample of the mysterious goo.

            “Ironically enough,” Eddie snarks, “something from your boytoy’s company.”

            Barry looks up at Eddie with the most annoyed look on his face, only to see Eddie mirroring Barry’s expression.  Joe steps between the two.

            “What did you find, Barry?” he asks, hoping to end the fight before it begins.

            Barry knows what his detective dad is trying to do, but since he’s in no mood for arguing, he lets go of the steam and turns to address him.  “I don’t know yet,” he answers, “but it looks to be some type of mud. I think this might have been the cause of death, until the coroner checks her I won’t know for sure, but it’s my only hunch.”

            “And I take it you’ll be bringing this sample to the lab?” Joe smirks.

            Barry matches it: “That depends: the lab… or the _lab_.”

            Eddie buts himself back into the conversation: “Obviously the golden retriever, speed freak. But shouldn’t we be looking at the bigger picture.”

            The two other men turn to give their colleague attention.  Barry juts his lower lip out in a pout, while Joe sighs in exhaustion.

            “What connection?” Joe asks.

            “How every heist has some connection to Barry’s flavor of the month,” Eddie snipes out, eyes alight with mischief and knowledge.  As much as Barry would love to punch him, he’s stopped by two annoying facts: that police are everywhere, and how Eddie’s right.

            “That is strange…” Joe relents, turning his attention to Barry, “has he…?”

            “We barely talk about police business,” Barry says, hands up in protest, “besides, he’s too nice.”

            “Yeah, ‘nice’,” Eddie snorts. Barry squints in suspicion.

            “And what’s that supposed to mean?” he asks.

            “Oh, nothing,” Eddie mirrors Barry earlier pose, “just that I’ve seen how ‘nice’ he can be. I mean ask anyone… the supermodel… the heiress… the waitress at this one hotel…”

            “Are you suggesting something,” Barry asks, voice in that register where anything could happen, most of the options with dangerous endings.

            “What is that old saying: ‘All that glitters is not gold’?” Eddie declares, “Maybe Brucie’s intentions aren’t as pure as your virgin ass.”

            “You know what-“

            “Enough!”

            The two men are startled, backing away once they realize how close they were to each other. Joe stands on the sidelines, angry.

            “I don’t care what you two do to each other outside of work,” Joe starts, “but in a professional environment I except the two of you to at least respect each other. Do I make myself clear?”

            He only steps down from his authoritative platform once he receives twin nods of shame.

            “Now,” he continues, “Eddie, you and I still have some work to do here.  Barry, I want you to ‘run’ that over to STAR.”

            Barry gives Eddie one last dark look before agreeing.  He races out the back door and in a flash, he’s gone.

            Back with the cops, Eddie looks to the swinging door Barry left behind and sticks his tongue out. He only stops when Joe cuffs him from behind.

            “Hey!” he protests, “I could have bitten my tongue!”

            Joe shakes his head: “Children. I work with children.”

* * *

 

            Back in the lab, everything is in chaos.  Papers are strewn everywhere, appliances in disarray, and when Barry arrives he finds his friends frantically tearing the building apart.

            “Is this what you mean by ‘hard at work’?” he asks, scared at what must have happened in the time between the phone call and now.

            “He did it again!” Caitlin yells, only to return to her searching.

            “Am I… missing something?” Barry asks again, only getting more confused.

            “No… yes… I don’t know!” Cisco shouts from his place in the cabinet, ass sticking up and out in the air.

            Barry sighs before pulling another speed trick. This time, he cleans up the mess his friends have made, and sits them on the now righted chairs.

            “Can someone please explain to me why you two have decided to go crazy?” Barry asks them slowly, as if they don’t understand.

            “That bat guy you were talking about!” Cisco yells, as if that is all he needs to say.

            “The Batman?” Barry asks, nose scrunched up in puzzlement.

            Cisco points at him as if to say ‘That’s the guy’ while Caitlin expands upon the unfinished thought.

            “He stole _our_ bat boomerang as well!” Caitlin yells, throwing her hands in the air.

            “What!?!” Barry yells.

            “And if that wasn’t bad enough!” Cisco continues, “He disabled our security!  It’s going to take me all night to get the systems back up!”

            “You know,” Barry sighs, falling back onto a third chair, “I’m getting real sick of this guy. Who does he think he is?”

            “A bat, for one thing,” Cisco mumbles, hunching into himself, arms folded across his chest.

            “Anyway,” Caitlin says, “what brings you by?  More plants? Because I’m beginning to regret not taking botany as a minor.”

            “Not this time,” Barry smiles, “I’ve got a sample I need processing, and something to discuss.”

            Caitlin gets up to grab the vial of evidence Barry holds out, taking the swab out and inserting it into a machine.  While the technology process the information, she turns to lean on the smooth metal.

            “Discuss what?” she asks, curious.

            “Apparently this crime spree has roots in Gotham… and in Wayne Tech,” Barry tells them, “I need to know what it is that’s got everyone Wayne-crazy.”

            “You’re one to talk,” Cisco laughs under his breath, but Barry hears it and shoots him a glare to let Cisco know he’s not amused.  Cisco pushes his chair over to one of the computers: “Alright, I’ll run the information through and see what I can find.  Any more details you can give me?”

            “Well,” Barry starts, “so far the places that have been hit were a WayneTech warehouse, and what I’m assuming was a shipping freight from Bruce’s company.  And finally, the bank I was at was housing something Wayne placed there.”

            “A diamond lens.”

            Cisco and Barry turn to look at Caitlin, who is now analyzing the chemicals making up the gunk Barry handed her.  She feels eyes on her, and meets their stares.

            “What?” she asks, “I happen to follow current events… besides anything that has the word ‘diamond’ in it immediately catches my attention.”  She turns back towards the screen.

            “Obviously,” Cisco sarcastically agrees, giving Barry a look.

            “Need I remind you Cisco that I have eyes on the back of my head!” she says from her station, startling Cisco back into his work.

            Barry chuckles at his friends before moving over to where Caitlin is almost finished.

            “What do you have for me?”

            “Well, Barry,” Caitlin starts, “it looks like there’s a lot of chemicals and minerals in here. Some of these chemicals are highly toxic and… I’ve never seen some of these quartz fragments, but there is something that does stick out.”

            “What is it?”

            “Clay.”

* * *

 

            In the office, Joe pours over the papers on his desk with a cup of hot coffee gripped firmly in his hand. Not as good as Jitters, but there’s enough caffeine in it to get him through the trials and tribulations that is paperwork.

            Thankfully, he’s doing all this in peace and quiet, what with Barry at STAR and Eddie out for the rest of the day.  No more interruptions.

            That is, until his cell phone starts to ring.

            He massages his temple as he hits the answer button.

            “Yes?”

            “Gee, I thought you would at least be a little happy to hear from me?”

            “Iris!” Joe barks, energy re-flooding his system, “You land safely?”

            “I’m talking to you aren’t I?” she sasses back.

            “Even miles away and you still don’t give me a break,” Joe jokes, “I’m hurt.”

            “I’ve got to keep you on your toes,” Iris smiles, “otherwise old age will set in and ruin you forever.”

            They both share a good laugh before actually beginning the real conversation.

            “Are you enjoying Metropolis?” he asks, toying with the edges of some of the papers.

            “Yes,” she answers, “I’m in this really great place, cheap, with an easy commute to and from the Daily Planet.  When Lois Lane does something it’s never half-assed.”

            “Language,” he admonishes cheekily, laughing at her spluttered response.  He normally doesn’t treat her like a kid, but the times he does really catch her off guard.

            “So when do you start work?” he continues.

            “Tomorrow, bright and early,” Iris tells him, “I have to go in, learn the ropes, probably get some coffees, kiss some… butts…”

            “That means I should probably let you get to sleep…” Joe rationalizes, “Jet lag and all…”

            “I can still talk,” Iris protests, but is cut short by a yawn, “…okay maybe not…”

            “Go to sleep, baby,” he tells her, “call me back tomorrow, or send that smoke signal, I’d rather talk to you when you’re not falling asleep on me.”

            “Alright dad,” she promises, “love you.”

            “Love you too.”

            She disconnects, and Joe puts his phone down to resume his foray into the inky boredom of his police work.

            He’ll talk to her about Eddie tomorrow… hopefully.

* * *

 

            “Are you sure this is the next target?”

            “Logarithms are never wrong, Barry: it’s math.”

            Barry stands outside what Caitlin and Cisco are assuring him is the next target: Folston Tech in downtown Central.  He’s clad in his Flash outfit, waiting patiently for the sign of impending meta-human… alone.

            The Folston Tech building is tall, at least seventy stories, all dark since it’s the time for regular people with no life threatening missions to be asleep.  But Barry is up and risking his life because whatever the bad guys want to steal, it’s here.

            After putting in all the data, Cisco was able to pinpoint what exactly was next on the list. At the warehouse, some crates were picked up; as well as at the shipping yard.  It’s the bank that was different, as all the robbers took was the diamond lens.

            Now it looks like the next stop on the tour of villainy was Folston Tech: where Wayne Tech was kind enough to lend some of its scientists and machinery to help with their research.

            “Are you _really_ -“

            “Barry if you ask one more time I’m cutting the line.”

            “Okay, okay, I got it!”

            Barry sits down on the gravel, letting his head lean back on the outer wall of the building he’s using to hide himself.  Alleys are good for something.

            It’s just when he’s starting to doze off, blue eyes dancing in his mind, when he sees the light flicker on in one of the top floors.

            “Here we go,” Barry whispers to himself, getting into position before dashing up the building to save the day.

            “Sorry creeps,” he says, landing on the floor, glass shards raining down around him, “but if you haven’t heard Central City has its own hero with his own theme.”

            He seems to have interrupted something, as a gang of six (who he assumes were also at the bank) has surrounded a graying black man.  The leader has the man by the collar, and his face is twisted in annoyance.

            “I heard,” he garbles, “and let me tell you ya have nothing on the bat guy.”  He tilts his head to signal his friends, and they advance on Barry.

            Barry smiles, cracks his neck, and starts.  He goes for the one closest, giving the guy a fat lip then sending him to the ground with a sweep of the legs. His next target gets an uppercut straight to the jaw on his ascent, knocking her off the ground a few inches. He roundhouse kicks her into the next guy, and together they fall to the ground.  Barry steps over the two bodies, gaining momentum to slide in between the final two.  He throws two gut punches that send both crumbling to the ground.  He stops, on one knee, and looks up at the remaining baddie while his friends are piled behind.

            But instead of being terrified, all he does his smile.  His teeth are crooked, and all it does is set off all the alarms in Barry’s head.

            The man looks behind Barry, and speaks: “You were right, Red, this guy is fast.”

            “Unlike men, I never lie.”

            Barry turns, surprised to see the woman from before standing right behind him.  She’s smiling, red lips like blood pulled up at his expense.

            “You-“

            But he doesn’t get to finish his sentence, as he’s suddenly pushed against the wall by a strange substance. He can only see out of the corner of the eye, but from what he can tell the man he assumed was the leader wasn’t even a man at all!  A gray blob of clay has replaced him.  Like an art project gone wrong.

            “Too bad I don’t go as fast,” he gurgles, “looks like your demise will have to go slow… and painful.”

            The sticky clay that makes up the man hit his lower back, and it soon starts to spread up him like a bad rash.  Barry starts to panic, because he can’t move.  He’s trying to vibrate but all it does is spread the clay further across his body. Barry’s trapped, and he can’t believe he’s going down like this.  Taken down by someone who’s not even in his rogue’s gallery!

            The gunk is up his neck, starting to surround his head.  He can feel his breathes getting shorter, his vision blurring.  All Barry can do is picture his funeral, and wonder as to who will throw their body on his casket: Bruce, Iris.... maybe Cisco?

            Just as he’s about to descend into the darkness he feels a sharp chill, and all he can guess is death making its claim for his soul.

            What he doesn’t expect is his mud prison to be shattered, and to fall into the arms of his savior.

            A very muscle-y savior… with a jaw that can cut marble.

            Barry, recovering by the second, uses his time to take in the man who saved his life.  The white lenses of his cowl, the pointy ears affixed to his head, and the grim line set on the visible part of his face.

            “I thought you said you took care of him before getting here!” the goo monster shouts at his partner, angry despite what his face doesn’t show.

            “I did!” she yells, “At least… I thought I did!  It doesn’t matter, finish them now!”

            Barry’s knight in shining (bat) armor looks up, and moves just in time to avoid the situation Barry was in earlier.  He dodges strike after strike, deft and agile even though Barry’s limp body is still in his arms.

            The man ducks into a hallway, head up against the wall as he looks back into the better-lit room. Barry’s head is up against his chest, and he tries to fight his blush.

            “Are you able to stand?” he growls and, wow, no normal man should have a voice that deep. Barry thinks he must have gargled some very sharp rocks before stepping out for the night.  He’s even deeper than Ollie and that’s saying something.

            “Ye-yeah,” Barry says, “I mean, I could have before, but-”

            “Then why didn’t you?” he counters back, turning to face him directly.  Barry splutters, trying to think of a comeback, but comes up empty in the face of Gotham’s protector.

            Barry decides his best response is just to get up and pout at what he assumes is the raised brow that’s hidden by the cowl.

            “So,” Barry says once he gets his bearings back, “what are we facing.”

            “ _I’m_ facing two escaped inmates from Arkham,” the man says, pulling out one of the weapons that Barry has seen twice before, “you can run on home.”

            Now Barry’s mad, even if he owes the guy for saving his life more than once.

            “Hey,” he demands, grabbing the man’s shoulder and making him face Barry, “this is in my town. So I’m helping.”

            The other man looks like he wants to protest, but with a quick look back realizes he doesn’t have the time to argue.  “Fine,” he relents, “I’ll take Clayface, you tie up Poison Ivy.”

            “Tie her up with wha-“

            Before he can even finish the other man thrusts a black cord into Barry’s hand before rushing back into the battlefield.  Barry stares at the material in his hand before pulling at it to test its strength. Deeming it fit enough to keep a criminal under wraps, he joins him in the battle.

            The cowled hero leaps into the fray, flinging weapon after weapon into the breast of the clay monster. It only takes seconds before the weapons explode, and what must have happened before, the substance the monster is composed of starts to freeze.  Clayface tries move forward, but the freezing solution must be a fast reaction, as he is completely frozen in record time.

            Flash on the other hand, takes the cord and quickly returns the favor to ‘Poison Ivy’. He wraps her up, tying a big bow with the remaining string, before dealing a swift rabbit punch to the back of her skull.  She’s knocked out, and Barry catches her as she falls, slowly lowering her to the ground. Once Barry is sure she’s down for the count, he gets up.

            On the other side of the room, the mystery man is talking with the captive in hushed tones. He moves closer, and only seems to catch the tail end of the conversation.

            “…okay, really, me and the stuff.  Does he…?”

            With a minute shake of the head, the other finally turns to give his attention to Barry, and his apparent friend does the same.

            “Are you safe, citizen?” Barry asks.

            “I’m fine…” the other trails off, unsure as to what to call Barry.  He must not be a native of Central City.

            “The Flash,” Barry points to his chest, where the lightning symbol rests.  Then, he points to the symbol on the other’s chest: “And you must be the Batman?”

            Batman only grunts in his affirmative, choosing to rather turn towards the other man. “Lucius,” he says, “call the police. Tell them to get some transport to bring these two back where they belong.”

            “I mean,” Barry cuts in, to the amusement of Lucius and annoyance of Batman, “I have a place where we can lock these guys up.  I can just-“

            “No,” Batman growls, cutting Barry off, “they’re from my city.  They go back to Arkham.”

            Barry puts his hands up in surrender: “Alright, fine… your call.”

            Lucius looks between the two, and starts to move towards the exit: “I’m just going to make the call… leave you two alone.”

            He walks out, cell phone out of his hands, leaving Barry alone with the menace of Gotham City. Barry decides this might be the best time to get some answers.

            “Why are you here?” he blurts out, catching Batman by surprise.

            “My inmates and criminals are here,” he explains, as if the fact was obvious, “something’s going on, and I’m investigating.”  He finishes in a tone that left no room for more questions, but Barry has been known to find the wiggle room.

            “And what about Bruce… Wayne, that is?  How is he involved in all this?”

            Batman now smirks, moving towards the window as he pulls out a small device.  “Why don’t you ask him yourself,” he says, pointing the object at a far off point, “you’re the one who’s dating him.”  And with that something flies out of the device, and he jumps out of the window.

            Barry rushes to where he jumped, looking out into the night sky as Batman leaves him, swinging between the skyscrapers.

            He leaves Barry thinking only one thing:

            “What a jerk!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good, right? Please leave kudos and reviews as they not only brighten my day but help encourage me to finish more chapters!!!


	5. Working Girl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Iris starts her job at the Daily Planet under Lois Lane and it's whirlwind from the moment she gets up. She meets new friends, learns some interesting things, and fixes something she should have done before she left. But it's never just ordinary for Iris West, as she does find herself in some... shocking developments.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was really inspired to write this next chapter because I love writing Iris (only because I try and do her the justice she deserves...). Anyway, I hope you like it, it's a little different than the chapters I've written before, so enjoy the ride. Plus enjoy the characters and references I've sprinkled throughout, it's great delving more into the world of DCU.

           The sun is just rising from the skyline: the yellow orb almost a match to the one that sits above the building which houses Metropolis’s own Daily Planet. Inside, the workers of the city’s source of news are hard at work, doing their best to provide the citizens with honest, factual news.  The print division type up their articles for the honored newspaper, working in tandem with the social media department on the newly minted Daily Planet blog. Even the media division is getting ready for the day:  preparing for the shoots and stories they’ll be covering.

            It’s with this department where the focus is set.  A woman with long black hair, pulled tight in a ponytail, paces the halls in front of her office. Her red heels click dangerously, the sway of her skirt hypnotic.  She bites at her pink lips, sky blue eyes roving back and forth, looking for something.

            “Where the hell is she?”

            Just when she’s about to give up hope, the loud ding of the elevator breaks the tense silence, as another woman falls out in a rushed panic.  She almost trips over her black heels, peeking out under her black column pants, as the black blazer pulled tight against her ebony skin holds back the flowing blouse underneath.  She’s huffing, moving closer to the woman in the hall.

            She stops in front of the lighter skinned woman, trying to look professional but failing.

            “Iris West,” the woman says, fists on hips, “you’re late.”

            Iris stands taller, looking the other woman in the eyes: “Ms. Lane, I can explain.”

_30 minutes earlier_

            “I can’t believe I’m going to be late!”

            Iris rushes out the door of the apartment building, immediately swinging the corner. She rushes through the crowds, weaving between the pedestrians. 

            Iris didn’t know how tired she was, waking up 45 minutes after her alarm went off in a frenzy of panic and stress.  Thankfully, doing her best impersonation of Barry, she was able to cut her routine down to 15 minutes, and was out the door in, well, a flash.

            But now she has to make it the 10 blocks to the office, up the elevator, and hopefully avoid Lois Lane until she fixes her fly-aways and re-applies her make-up.

            She doesn’t know how much time she’ll have, since she’s been stopped at two lights now and she’s tapping her heel in annoyance.

            There’s no one on the road, yet she’s forced to wait here with everyone else, wasting precious time she could be getting to work on time.

            Iris looks to her left, not seeing anything, and decides to risk it. She starts moving forward, trying to make it across the street.  But suddenly she hears it: the screech of tires on paved road.

            She turns her head just as she sees the car speeding her way. Iris is frozen, trapped, and she can’t make her muscles do what she wants them to do.  As her cause of death moves closer, all she can think is how terrible it is to die now, just as she was starting to make a name for herself. Now the only name Iris will have is “That Girl Who Painted 5th and Fivel”.

            “Get out of the way!”

            She’s pulled out of the way, onto the next corner.  Her heart drowns out the loud honking sound of the passing car, and all Iris can do is stare up at her savior.

            He’s tall.  Thick muscles corded under dark skin, and whiskey colored eyes staring at her in concern. She realizes she needs to speak, and the first thing that comes to mind is… embarrassing.

            “You’re touching me,” she says, eyes wide in shock.

            The stranger laughs, thick and hearty, as he releases his vice grip on her wrist. “Well,” he rumbles, voice deep, “I needed to pull you out somehow, and I’m not Wonder Woman.”

            “Sorry,” Iris says, shakily, “I’m still- you know.  Thanks for the, uh, save.”

            “No problem,” he returns, “but you need to keep an eye on these streets. First timers like you should get a lay of the land before rushing about.”

            “How do you know it’s my first time in Metropolis?” Iris asks, a little wary. The weird thought that somehow this guy has a vendetta against the Flash, and has followed her here pops into her mind, and she can’t help but feel a stab of disappointment if this is true.

            “It’s written all over you,” he laughs again, “I looked the same way. Skittish, rushing, as if I was always late for something-“

            “Late!” Iris yells, suddenly coming back to herself, “I’m late!”

            She runs, leaving the mystery man in her dust.  Even with the increasing distance, she can still feel his eyes on her retreating figure.

            _Present_

            “Well that was really inconsiderate of you,” Lois says after Iris’s story, “don’t you know how much work I put into this internship?  The nerve of some people…”

            “What?” Iris says, not sure what she heard.

            Lois takes a beat before slapping Iris in the back: “I’m kidding.  I’m glad you got here safe and sound.  Now follow me around while I show you the ropes.”

            Lois turns and struts down the hallway, and Iris takes another lungful before following the path of Hurricane Lois.

* * *

 

            “…And over here you’ll find the dying media: print,” Lois points out.  She gets some scathing looks, but many of them have learned to ignore Ms. Lane.  Ever since she won the Pulitzer for her piece on LexCorp’s illegal methods of waste removal, she’s been on the fast track up.  And with her no holds barred attitude, she’s been able to come out on top. It’s this personality that convinced the backers for the Daily Planet, when they expanded their enterprise into new media, to hire Lois as their head anchor.

            “I wouldn’t call us dead yet, Lois.”

            Lois turns, to see who would dare challenge the Queen in her kingdom, but only rolls her eyes with a smile at the tall, lumbering man leaning against a cubicle.  His glasses are drooping off his nose, and his hair is mussed, probably from running his hands through it (like he’s doing now).

            “Smallville,” she says, “isn’t there a granny you should be helping cross the street?”

            “That depends,” he fires back, “do you plan on going out for lunch?”

            “Good one Kent!” another man joins him from behind.  He’s young, dark-skinned, and a little under the other man’s height. But unlike his friend, he’s wearing clothes that actually fit him: tight around the corners. Not loose like the other, lighter-skinned male.

            “Please, boys,” Lois grits out, “don’t undermine my authority in front of the intern!”

            Now the attention is on Iris, and the two men finally notice her.  She smiles, and the other smile back.  The first man holds his hand out, and Iris returns the gesture, surprised at how strong his grip is.

            “Hello,” he greets, “I’m Clark Kent.  The goofball to my right is Jimmy Olsen.”

            “Hey!” Jimmy waves.

            “Get a good look at them,” Lois throws her arm around Iris, “because this will be the first… and last time we decide to grace the black and white halls of the newspaper with our Technicolor presence.”

            Jimmy crosses his arms, eyes squinted at Miss High and Mighty of New Media.  “Remember your roots, Lois,” he tells her, “you started out here, just like the rest of us.”

            Lois closes her eyes: “True, but then my excellent writing skills and winning smile helped _elevate_ me to where I am today.”

            “It helps when the subject matter of your pieces are really… super,” Jimmy snarks back, smile on his face.

            “Hey,” Lois defends, “it’s not my fault I was the only one able to get interviews with him! He just likes me.”

            “More like he likes _saving_ you,” Jimmy counters, “what was it Luthor called you… ‘Superman’s Personal Damsel in Distress’?”

            “Oh please,” Lois smiles, firing back at rapid pace the game with Jimmy she’s loved to play since they first met, “I could have saved myself plenty of times, but you know how fragile the male ego is.  That’s why ‘male’ rhymes with ‘frail’.”

            Iris, content with just being a spectator in this tennis game of wit and snark, cannot help what comes out of her mouth next: “So does female.”

            The three people gathered around here turn, and suddenly the spotlight is on Iris. Lois squints.

            “First rule, kid,” she says, “don’t make me look bad in front of these clowns.  Now you’re on coffee duty.  Black, two sugars.  Meet me at my office after.”  Lois walks away, taking all the attention with her as she goes.

            Jimmy turns back to Iris: “Good luck.  You’re gonna need it.”

            Finally she’s alone… well, with Clark Kent.  She turns to him.

            “Is she always like this?” she asks, scared at how powerful and impressive Lois Lane is in person.

            “Only to those she likes,” Clark tells her, “you’d hate to see how she treats the people she hates.”

            Iris can only imagine, and a shiver runs up her spine.

            “So how did you find out about this internship?” Clark strikes up anew.

            “Actually,” Iris laughs, “she contacted me.  She saw my blog on the Flash in Central City and said she saw a little bit of herself in my work… and I can see why.”

            “Wait,” Clark stops her, “are you Iris West?”  She nods, and he continues.  “I’ve read your stuff too, you have a wonderful way of telling a story.  I loved your pieces on Central City’s speedster.”

            Iris laughs. “Well, he’s fast, but I bet he can’t compare to Metropolis’s own ‘Man of Steel’.”

            Clark laughs with her. “Well,” he scratches his head, “he’s not all that great.  He might be super… but he’s a man, too.”

            Iris looks at Clark, and can’t help but feel something familiar from him.  Unfortunately, she doesn’t have the time or the luxury to pin it down.

            “Can I ask you a question?”

            “Sure,” Clark tells her.

            “Where does Lois usually get her coffee?”

* * *

             Unlocking her door, Iris leans on the hard oak to open it.  She was too tired to do it the regular way, and decided heaving her entire body weight onto the barrier was a better idea.  She swings it shut, deciding to lock it when there aren’t grocery bags in her hands.

            She plops the bags onto her dining room table, doing the same with her body seconds later. Her head meets the surface with a harsh knock.

            “Oww…” she mutters, rubbing her head against the smooth table.

            Today had been grueling, and left an impression on Iris.  After returning with Lois’s coffee, Iris was tasked with following Lois around and helping her with her normal activities of the day.

            And since Lois loved to involve herself in every aspect of the process, so did Iris (by proxy).

            She has no idea what is in store for her tomorrow.

            Iris finally lifts her head from the table, and reaches into the bags, searching for the treat she bought herself.  When her fingers wind around the glass neck, she smiles, and pulls out the bottle of wine.

            Debating on whether or not drinking from the bottle would be forgiven for the grueling work she did today, she decides to go the down the path less drunken, and get a glass.

            While preparing her glass, she pulls her cell phone out of her pocket, dialing the number she knows by heart, and putting it on speaker.

            “Hey Iris,” her father’s voice rings throughout the apartment, and Iris smiles: it almost passes for home.

            “Hi dad,” she says, swirling the drink in her glass before taking a sip.  Dry, just as she likes it.

            “How was your first day of work,” he asks, and even from miles away Iris can guess the positing he’s taken: hunched forward in interest, hands folded in between his spread legs.

            “It… well, it was work,” she tells him, “Lois isn’t your everyday reporter.  She’s a… _superwoman_.” Iris smiles at her joke, and from her dad’s laughter she can tell he got it too.

            “Knowing you though, baby girl,” Joe continues, “you’ll warm up to it soon enough.  Lois Lane might be super, but Iris West picks up things in a _flash_.”

            Iris snorts into her drink. They shoot the breeze for a little bit longer, Joe telling Iris about the day, and Iris doing the same (leaving out a couple of harrowing incidents…)

            Soon they slip into a comfortable silence, Iris having finished off her second glass and sitting next to the phone on the counter.

            “Iris,” Joe starts, and Iris looks at the bright screen of her phone.  She knows that tone, and nothing good ever comes from it.

            “Yes, dad,” she says, holding her breath, waiting for the shoe to drop.

            “Remember how I said I wanted to discuss something with you?” he asks.

            Iris nods, but then agrees moments after.

            “Well,” Joe continues, “I think we should have this discussion now.”

            “What is it?” Iris asks, tension coiled around her stomach.

            “Why didn’t you tell Eddie you were leaving?”

            The question hangs in the air like a body, and quietly, Iris takes the phone and turns off the speaker. She slips it towards her ear as she answers her father.

            “Well,” she starts, “because it was just too awkward.  We only _just_ broke up, and he was going to propose.  I… I thought I was doing him a favor.”

            “Baby girl,” Joe starts, and the way he says it, in that disappointing, sad tone, clues Iris in on how she made a mistake.  “You did yourself the favor,” he continues, “when he heard you left, he looked shattered. How can you leave someone you care for without even telling them anything.”

            “I thought he would understand!” Iris tries to defend herself, hopping off the counter.

            “He doesn’t,” Joe says, “and because of it, he’s taking his anger out on Barry.”

            “Barry?” Iris asks.

            “Yeah,” Joe tells her, “your action, or inaction, has consequences affecting the lives and the work of your friends.”

            “I…” Iris whispers, “I messed up, didn’t I?”

            “You still have time, Iris, do the right thing.  I love you.”

            “Love you too.”

            Joe hangs up, and Iris lets the dial tone take up the space of her thinking for a couple of minutes, before finally removing the phone from her head and staring at it in the palm of her hand.

            She bites her lip, debating on what she should do.  She feels awful for what she did, not realizing how terribly she treated Eddie and his feelings. Iris really does care for him, as a friend, and doing this was something a friend doesn’t do. She should have left him in the lurch like that.  At least she gave Barry some closure, something she didn’t realize Eddie needed as well.

            But as she starts to put in the number, she tries to think of what she can say.  There’s nothing in her head: no apology, no words of comfort, nothing to ease into the situation.  The number is dialed, and all that’s waiting is for her to hit the green button, but she hovers over it.

            It’s now or never. Should she call Eddie, fix the situation she’s started, or wait until she’s ready.

            Iris makes her decision.

            But as she’s lying in her bed, phone set for the next morning, she wonders if it was the right one.

* * *

 

            “Get ready kid, it’s time for your big break!”

            Iris is standing in front of Lois’s desk, in a light pink dress and nude heels.  She quirks her lips and furrows her brows.

            “Let me explain,” Lois continues, standing, “today, you are coming with me on an interview. Producers have been dying to get an interview with CADMUS’s wunderkind, but they’ve been putting the kaibosh on it for months.  But finally, they agreed, so they ar sending me, and by extension you, to their Metropolis lab to give the interview.”

            Iris smiles, as this has been her first break of actual news in the days she’s been there. Her job usually consists of fact checking, fetching coffee, and running messages around the office. But even with the tough workload, her father was right on how fast she has adjusted.  She’s even made friends: eating with Jimmy and Clark in the break room.

            “Excited?” Lois smiles, and all Iris can do is nod.  “Good,” Lois continues, “because before we go I need you to do inventory on the van, make sure all the stuff is there, collect the sample questions from Maureen, the info on CADMUS and their scientist from Shawn, and grab my make-up bag from Kim.”

            Iris stops smiling.

            “Hey,” Lois calls out, “and when we’re done with the interview, let me take you out for a late lunch. In honor of your first story here in Metropolis.”

            Iris returns the kind gesture with a smile, and turns on her heel to do as she was commanded. However, she stops short and turns back around.

            “One question,” she asks, “who are we interviewing?”

            Lois doesn’t even look up from her papers: “He’s apparently a technical savant, and a master engineer. His name is… Dr. John Henry Irons.”

* * *

 

            The white walls of CADMUS unnerve Iris, giving her a very horrifying sterile image. Lois, if she was bothered by it, doesn’t let it show as she struts up to the security guard in the front. His nametag reads Jim Harper, and he’s lean with a fine dusting of red hair under his hat.

            Lois flashes her badge. “Lois Lane of Daily Planet News,” she tells him, “and this is my intern and personal assistant for the day, Iris West.”

            Jim types into the computer, and looks back up at the two women.  “We’ve been expecting you, Miss Lane.  Please, follow me.”  He gets up from his chair, only for a second man to take his place.  If Iris were looking closely, she would say they look almost identical.  But Lois and the cameraman are leaving her behind, and she rushes to keep up.

            “The interview will be in here,” Jim leads them to a room filled with odds and ends of machinery and oil stains in every corner.  “Dr. Irons will be with you in a short moment.”

            The door swings close, and Iris tries not to gag at the weird smell in the room.

            “How rude,” Lois interjects, crossing her arms, “we have to do the interview in here?”

            Iris agrees, jumping a little when she thinks she sees a rat in the corner.  Lois sighs, shaking her head, but moves forward.

            “Alright,” she claps, “Rob, I’m going to need you to set up over there, so as to minimize the mess as possible, and hang the lights in a way that we can showcase Irons and not the… room.”  Lois turns back to Iris. “Kid, I want you to try and convince them to move the interview somewhere else.”

            “Me?” Iris asks.

            “Yeah,” Lois smiles, “they were probably warned about me, so I don’t think I can pull any of the usual tricks.  So as your first test as a reporter, try and get us somewhere that isn’t the garbage compactor for an Imperial Ship.”

            Iris nods, stepping out of the room, and into the refreshing and well-lit hallway on her mission. She’s lost… but determined.

            It’s been around fifteen minutes, and Iris can’t tell if she’s even moved the hallways look so alike. Plus she’s run into no one. It’s very disappointing knowing she’ll have to return, tail between her legs, and tell Lois she failed.

            “Long time no see, isn’t it First Timer?”

            Iris stops, the voice calling to her sounding very familiar.  She turns, and is surprised to see the man from her first day of work, the one who saved her, standing there.  He’s wearing a white lab coat, with the sleeves rolled up.

            “You’re a scientist?” she asks, because when she first met him he looked too… _big_ , to be a scientist.

            His smile flattens a bit as he quirks his head.  “Yeah… I am…”

            Iris can tell she’s offended him, and tries to do damage control.  “Not that, I didn’t think you couldn’t be a scientist. It’s just that the scientists I know aren’t so… well, you know… like you.”  His face falls a bit more.  “And by like you, I mean…” she waves her hands, “very… muscely…”

            She doesn’t know what she did, but now the man starts to laugh.  Filling up the room with his booming guffaws and boundless smile. He looks up at her through thick lashes, and Iris can’t help the twirl her stomach makes.

            “I made a fool out of myself,” Iris mutters, “didn’t I?”

            “Nah, it’s cool,” the man comforts her, “I like fools.  Better than the stuffed shirts I work with.”

            Now it’s Iris’s turn to smile, thankful that her dark cheeks hide her blush.

            The scientist moves closer. “But since we’ve established what _I’m_ doing here, can you tell me what _you’re_ doing here?”

            “Oh!” Iris says, “I’m here to interview on of your scientists: John Henry Irons. I’m with Lois Lane and, well… we were put in this room but it’s terrible for the shoot.”

            “Let me guess,” the man crosses his arms, “they put you in the relic room.”

            Iris scrunches her face in confusion, and the man elaborates.  “It’s the room where all the tools and tech that’s too old or broke go to die.”

            She nods, as that description fits the bill.  But then, an idea pops into her head.

            “Do you know of anywhere else we could go?” she asks, “I mean, it would be a shame for such a great man as your colleague to be interviewed in a dump.”

            The man squints, looking past her smile and into her mind.  She thinks he can see the wheels turning in her brain, that he knows what she’s up to. It wouldn’t shock her if telepaths exist: she’s from Central City.

            But then he’s all smiles as he steps back.

            “Sure,” he tells her, “tell Lois and her crew to go to his personal lab.  It’s down the hallway from the relic room, until you can only turn left, then it’s another right down the first turn, and the third door on the right.”

            “Thank you!” she hugs him, forgetting for a minute he’s a stranger, before she high-tails it back to Lois.  She misses the look of shock on the other man’s face, and his tender smile as she leaves.

            “…No I can still see that musty gold robot in the background,” Lois is telling Rob, who looks ready to bash her in with the portable light, when Iris arrives.

            “I found us a better room!” Iris tells the duo, and they turn, “Turns out this guy I met the other day works here, and let me know where Dr. Irons _personal_ lab is!”

            Lois beams. “Great job kid,” she tells her, “I knew you had it in ya.”  She turns back to the cameraman: “Rob, I need you to take this down so we can move.”

            She’s at the door when the head of the boom mic whizzes by her own head.  “Really!” she yells, as Iris laughs at the show.

            It takes a couple of minutes, a lot of disgruntled mumbling from Rob, and angry yelling from Lois, but they finally find their way towards the lab.  In front of the door, the placard reads:

_ Dr. John Henry Irons _

_ Head Engineer _

            Lois raps on the door, and through the metal they can hear a faint ‘Come in!’

            For the second time that day Iris swears she knows that voice.  But when the door opens, she is shocked.

            Sitting in front of an open machine, wires in his hands, is the man from before.  He looks up, right past Lois and at Iris, smiling.

            Iris, in turn, narrows her eyes.

            Finally, after what seems like a long time, does he look at Lois.

            “So, Miss Lane,” he says, “where should we start?”

* * *

             Iris watches from the corner as Lois conducts the interview with Dr. Irons.  She sits there, wondering why he didn’t say something when she told him why she was here.  But that’s not all she’s thinking about, checking back in to pick up little tidbits about the doctor’s life.  How he grew up in a poor neighborhood, and was very lucky to get where he was today. With the help of a dedicated teacher, a loving mother, and hard work, he was able to get a full ride to MIT. There he graduated at the top of his class and was about to take a job at STAR before CADMUS came calling. She laughs at this, wondering if they would have met sooner if he did take that STAR job.

            “Can you tell us anything about what you’re working on now?” Lois asks, leaning forward in her studio provided chair.

            “Sorry Ms. Lane,” he tells her, “but as you’ve probably heard most of your life, that is classified information.”

            “Now you sound just like my father,” she jokes.

            John joins in: “At least I can say I don’t look like him.”

            They both share in a final laugh before Lois decides to wrap up the interview.

            “Thank you again for taking the time to answer our questions,” Lois says, “and for getting us a better room.”

            “It’s my pleasure,” he says, and with that Lois calls wrap.  She gets up from her chair to review the footage with Rob, while John decides to make his way over to where Iris was standing.

            “Enjoy the interview?”

            “Why didn’t you say you were John Henry Irons?”

            This throws him, and he has to stop for a minute before deciding on a smirk.

            “Because I wanted to see the look on your face,” he tells her truthfully, sticking his hands in his pockets. She scoffs at his wide smile, then pushes him back a bit in retaliation.

            They’re laughing, and it seems like just an ordinary day.  Iris, at her job, having a really fun time with a _really_ handsome guy… it just seems so normal.

            Of course that’s when something has to happen.

            The wall opposite Iris and John is smashed apart, unfortunately Lois and Rob are caught in the debris. Iris moves to go check on them, a scream caught in her throat, but John holds her back as his focus is on what broke the wall.

            Standing in a tight, black bodysuit, is a woman with chalky white skin.  Her short, blue hair stands on end, and in her hands sparks fly out.

            “Paging Doctor Irons,” she crackles, “You’re needed in the morgue.  Well… your _body_ is.”

            She fires a bolt of lightning, and this time it’s Iris who pulls John out of the way. Iris grips his hand and pulls him towards the door, trying to get him to safety.

            “Hey girlie,” she hears from behind, just as she dodges another lightning blast, “I don’t like to share my men.”

            Iris turns the corner, shouting back: “Me neither!”

            The duo makes it to the lobby, and Iris sees Jim stand at attention.

            “There’s a woman chasing us!” she tells him, “She can shoot lightning!”

            He pulls out his weapon, and gets out from behind his desk.  “I’ll handle this,” he says, “call the cops.”  He heads down the direction they left as they take his position. John picks up the phone to dial 911, but just as he seems to be getting a connection, the lights flicker before completely shutting off.

            “It’s dead,” he drops it.

            Suddenly, they hear three bangs, and they drop behind the desk.  It’s silent, and they think they’re safe.  However, they hear a large buzzing and a pained sound, and realize they aren’t out of the woods yet.

            Iris starts opening cabinets, searching frantically.  She increases her speed the closer the click of the woman’s thigh high boots get.

            “What are you looking for?” John whispers harshly.

            “I’m looking for-ahah!” she cheers, finding the extra gun she knew was somewhere in the desk. She cocks it, praising the powers that be that it is fully loaded.

            “You know how to shoot?” he asks.

            “My dad’s a cop,” she explains, “I know how to fire over seven different guns.”

            “Come out, come out Dr. Irons,” the woman calls out, “my backers want your head.  If you would just make it easier…”

            Iris needs to act fast. She knows firing directly at her won’t work, because Jim (hopefully still alive) couldn’t stop her, so Iris takes note of her surrounding.  Seconds feel like hours as she searches for what to do, when she notices what’s on the ceiling.

            “I hope you’re fine with being a little wet.”

            “Wha-“

            Iris stands, catching the shockingly evil villain by surprise, aims… and fires.  She hits her mark, and suddenly water comes pouring from above the woman, frying her system.  Like a domino effect, the rest of the sprinkler system turns on and drenches the other two in the room.  It only lasts only a few minutes, and the lobby stops raining.

            “How did you know that would work?” John pops up next to her.

            “I’ve seen people get electrocuted before,” she tells him, “science.”

            “That’s not science-“

            “Ugh…”

            The pair cast their gaze on the downed lightning bug, as she slowly starts to rise from the floor. Sparks fly from her eyes, and she looks at the two with intense hatred.

            “Alright, girly,” she grunts, “I was getting paid to kill him… but I’m gonna off you for free.”

            Iris grabs John’s arm, eyes wide with fear as the woman’s hands light up the room. But just as she is getting ready to fire, there’s a tutting sound behind her.

            “Wha-no!”

            In an instant, the woman starts to disappear, trying to grab onto nothing.  Her legs disappear, looking as if they have changed into pure energy, being sucked up into a bright blue cube.  She’s cursing, screaming, as she is sucked into the small prison.

            “You never learn Leslie…”

            Iris and John can only stare, as the man, the myth, the legend stands before them in all his blue, red, and yellow glory.

            “It’s…”

            “…Superman.”

            Hearing his name, he turns to see Iris and John in all their sopping, moist glory.

            “Thank you,” he tells them, moving forward, “I know it must not have been easy, but you did a great job keeping her preoccupied.”

            “Thank her,” John juts his thumb in Iris’s direction, “it was all Iris.  She’s the hero today.”

            Iris smiles, feeling a warm, proud adrenaline rush through her system.  It’s nice to be the hero for once, and she might stand a little taller after such high praise.

            Superman turns to her now. “Thank you, Iris. You must have some experience in this business.”

            “Well,” Iris starts, “my dad is a police officer.  Plus, I’ve had run-ins with the Flash and many of his enemies… actually reporting on many of them, so I’m used to people with powers.”

            “The Flash?” Superman asks, “You know the Flash?”

            Iris smiles: “Personally.”

            “That’s actually great,” he tells her, “I’ve been wanting to talk to him about something. I was thinking of doing a charity event with him… maybe get him in a race.  Do you think you can pass the information along?”

            “I’ll see what I can do.”

            “Thanks-“

            “Superman!”

            The three people turn to see Lois running down the hallway, microphone in hand, being chased by a heaving, dirty Rob.

            “Superman!” she repeats, “Do you know why Leslie Willis, aka Livewire was after Dr. Henry Irons?”

            “Sorry Lois,” he backs away, “no interviews today.  But here’s a helpful hint: you might want to get the rubble out of your hair.”

            “Huh?” Lois asks, fingers going to her hair to pull out little bits of brick and plaster. Just as she thinks she’s finished fixing her head, she sees the Man of Steel has already fled.

            “Dammit,” she grumbles, “next time, Blue Boy.”  She stalks away, heading towards the van with Rob in tow.

            “I should probably go,” Iris turns to Henry, jerking her thumb in the direction of the door, “work and all.” She turns to leave, but Henry grabs her wrist to stop her.

            “Wait,” he says, “Can I… can I have your number?”

            She turns around; breathe leaving her as she takes in his hopeful expression.  She gives him a soft smile, and puts her hand out. He looks down, and hurriedly takes his phone and places it in her hand.  Iris enters her contact information before taking the initiative and placing the phone back in the pocket of his shirt.  He gulps.

            “Here’s hoping the next time we meet, we don’t have to worry about our safety.”

            “Here’s hoping…”

            She leaves him there, standing in the middle of the wet lobby as she makes her exit. And she’ll deny it to her dying breath, but she threw him a bone and a twist of her hips on her way out the door.

* * *

 

             This time when she enters her apartment, she immediately changes into dry clothing. Lois postponed their lunch for tomorrow, and let her go home early because of the amazing job she did today. Especially since she’s going to be mentioned in the news tonight.

            She can’t believe the adventures she’s already getting into here in the biggest city in America: the work… new friends… new _possibilities_.

            John flashes to mind and she smiles, until another face pops into her memory, drenching her again. This time it’s in guilt and shame.

            Iris looks at the phone she put on the table before getting changed, and moves towards it. She knows what she has to do, otherwise she can’t move on.  She thought she was doing both of them a favor, when all it did was harm both of them emotionally. But now, running on the courage and bravery before, she dials.

            “Hey, Eddie? It’s Iris… no, no everything is fine… yeah… listen, we need to talk…”

            This time she goes to bed feeling lighter than she has in awhile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun right? I really feel like I did the chapter justice and I hope you agree with me. Thank you for taking the ride to Metropolis, but next time we find ourselves back in Central.  
> Remember to comment, leave kudos, and subscribe!


	6. Cat and Mouse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barry has taken to having long nights, searching Central City for Batman. Instead... he stumbles upon another of Gotham's costumed baddies. Luckily for him he only ends up slightly redder than when he began the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there, sorry it took me forever to update. I got stuck on a scene (I ended up cutting after realizing it was too hard to work) and then whenever I wanted to work on long-term story planning couldn't because of school work. But I didn't stop writing, because I would have gone crazy, so check out some of my other BatFlash stories "Positively Green with Envy" and "A Type". I will definitely try to keep up more with writing, maybe another chapter before Christmas. Thank you for all who stayed with me!

Chapter 6: Cat and Mouse

            The moon hangs overhead, rays unblocked by clouds on this clear night.  If someone were to look closely enough, they might be able to pick out a star or two, maybe even a constellation.  Yet the figure that stands on the roof of a tall building looks in the opposite direction, scanning the dark expanse of the city below. His eyes are trained on the artificial stars of the city, trying to spot the dark cloud that had recently begun to hang over the city… and his head.

            “Stalking isn’t a good look for you Barry.”

            Barry’s comm-link crackles to life, and the tired voice of Caitlin Snow reaches its way into his ears.

            “I’m not stalking,” Barry pouts, “it’s called ‘ _constant vigilance_ ’.”

            “Then what’s with that crazy look in your eye?”

            “You can’t see what’s in my eyes!”

            “…One of them is twitching isn’t it?”

            Barry grumbles, rubbing a hand over his right eye: “Do you have anything _important_ to tell me?”

            Caitlin sighs, but even from the little device he can hear the clack of the keyboards. “There seems to be no change in Central City’s criminal activity, or lack thereof, since the last time you asked for anything ‘ _important_ ’,” she tells him.

            “How long ago was that?” Barry asks.

            “Since now,” Caitlin says, “…fifteen minutes.”

            Barry hangs his head, a hiss escaping his lips before he leans back with enough force to fall on his butt.  His hands sit between hi legs as he wrings them, letting the pent-up energy stored within him to be released. For the past two weeks there hasn’t been anything interesting happening in Central, even though he and either Caitlin or Cisco have been burning the midnight oil since Barry’s fateful encounter with Gotham’s caped crusader.

            He leans back, placing his weight on his hands, and looks up to the sky.

            “Caitlin?” he asks into the device, only to hear a slight crackling sound in return.

            “Caitlin!” he says louder, and in return is gifted with a thud and a string of expletives.

            “I’m awake, I’m awake!” she rushes out, and Barry can only picture her: hair tucked into a neat little bun while she has her lab coat buttoned up, a mug of coffee nearby, fighting a losing battle.

            “Sure you are…” Barry chuckles, looking to the side, leaning back further onto his elbows.

            Caitlin huffs: “Can you blame me?  This is my second time pulling an all-nighter!  If only Cisco didn’t have a date tomorrow…”

            “Hey,” Barry says, “this is important.  Crime doesn’t rest.”

            “From what I’m looking at Barry,” Caitlin fires back, “the only thing not resting is us-and I severely need it.”

            “Any minute now, something can happen!” Barry defends, “A robbery, a murder, a-“

            “A man in a bat suit swinging through the skies?” Caitlin interrupts, her tone sarcastic and knowing.

            “I-I, uh,” Barry stutters, his elbow slips, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

            “Barry,” Caitlin starts, and from her tone Barry knows she isn’t going to be beating around the bush, although he’s lucky she’s at the lab because he knows she would be beating something… or _someone_. “This is getting ridiculous,” she continues, “we’ve been losing sleep to find this guy and… and what were you even going to do when you find him?”

            “I was, well-I mean,” Barry stumbles, cheeks flushing red in being caught in a trap, “What I was going to do was-“

            “You have no idea do you,” she says, muttering an ‘Unbelievable’ under her breath, “You’ve been making Cisco and I stay up with you to, what, find Batman and _gape_ at him?”

            “No…” Barry drawls out, “Maybe I was gonna… arrest him?”

            “For what?” Caitlin asks, “For fighting evil?  For saving your life?”

            Barry knows he’s been backed into a corner, but he isn’t going down without a fight. “He’s a vigilante! He has no jurisdiction, no right, and no powers!  So what if he has gadgets, and-and fighting skills, and-and-and… _muscles_!”

            “Barry,” Caitlin says, “you’re obsessive-and an idiot.”

            “It’s just,” Barry sighs, “this man is good. He was able to take down two meta-humans with no powers, and he knows my identity… what if-what if he decided to take _me_ down?”

            “Highly unlikely,” Caitlin scoffs, “I mean if he wanted to do that he wouldn’t have saved you every time you got into trouble.”

            “He must be leading me into a false sense of security!” Barry argues.

            “They say he's best friends with Superman.”

            “…” Barry is silent, until he groans, falling onto his back.  There’s a dull ache where his head met concrete but it is smothered in the all around ache of the tiredness that has seeped into his bones.

            “Why can’t you leave my shaky suspicions alone?” he asks her, “Why do you have to pull that final Jenga piece that makes my tower crumble?”

            “Because,” Caitlin soothes, “the sooner I get you to realize how stupid you’ve been acting, the sooner I get to go home and dream of Ronnie.”

            Barry snorts: “Men on the mind?”

            “Hey,” Caitlin yawns, “you’re one to talk.  I caught you at least three times yesterday staring at a picture of Bruce on your phone.”

            Barry’s face is red once again. He scrubs a hand down his face before responding.  “It’s not my fault he had to go back to Gotham for business,” he grumbles.

            “Barry, I’m not one to usually ‘one up’ someone,” Caitlin starts, “but I thought Ronnie was dead for a year, and even though he is now alive and traveling the country with Professor Stein, I still don’t spend all my free time doodling his name with hearts.”

            Barry’s lips curl downwards, “Okay, you win: I’m a sap and you are the strongest, most stable person around.”

            “Naturally,” Caitlin agrees.

            “You’re like ice,” Barry continues with a smile, “some kind of a… killer frost.”

            “I’m laughing so hard right now, Barry,” Caitlin deadpans.

            “That can’t be,” Barry sits up, “you don’t let a silly thing like emotions get to you!”

            “You’re lucky I don’t have actual ice powers,” Caitlin threatens, “otherwise I’d do what Captain Cold has been unable to do _and_ provide a nice ice sculpture for the after party.”

            “I’d like to see you try,” Barry squints, “can you freeze your suave, charming friend?”

            “Good thing for me your charm only seems to work with men,” Caitlin teases, “around women you’re your usual awkward tornado of clumsiness.”

            Barry puts an arm to his chest: “You wound me, Professor Frost.”

            “Barry…” she teases, but falls silent quickly.

            “Caitlin,” he asks, sitting straighter, hand to the lightning bolt on his ear, “what’s wrong.”

            “It looks like, for once, your crazy suspicion might have some leverage,” she starts, “but not about the Batman: the alarm just went off over at Central City’s museum- in the Egyptian Wing.”

            Barry stands, replacing his cowl over his face before stretching his limbs.

            “And just when I thought I was going to sleep early tonight,” Caitlin pouts from her end of the line.

            Barry smiles. “Go home,” he tells her, “I’ll wrap this one up and tell you about it in the morning.”

            “You’re a _real_ hero, Barry Allen,” Caitlin tells him before shutting off the link between them.  Soon enough, nothing but the night breeze and his thoughts break through the silence.

            He gets into position before shooting off, speeding across the city to make it towards Central City’s museum.  He did want to go recently, having read about how they received a shipment of rare artifacts from a recent dig in the Cairo area.  He just didn’t expect to go after hours.

            Barry stops at the entrance, pausing just a second to see if anything’s amiss.  He sees nothing, but continues inside slower. He’s not sure what he expects, but there are no signs of meta humans-yet.

            He’s careful not to alert anyone to his presence, not even the guards.  Then again, they seem to be getting the much-needed sleep Barry has been missing.  He sidesteps the rest of the non-sleeping security before reaching hall where the alarm first sounded. He slips in through the open door, zipping towards where he can spot a slim figure clad in black leather claw their way into a glass case.  Inside the case is a statue of a feline, immortalized in gold and encrusted with jewels.

            “I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Barry says, startling the theif.

            The woman turns, but unlike other criminals, she only fixes Barry with a bored look: “You’re not Batman.”

            Barry deflates instantly.

            “No,” Barry starts, “but I’m the Flash, the hero of Central City.”

            “Never heard of you,” she says, turning back to her crime.

            Barry sighs, as if his self-confidence didn’t need to be smaller than it already was.  He scrubs another hand over his face before dashing over to the criminal.  He picks her up, despite protest, and travels to the roof of the building. Once there, he drops her on her behind.

            “Me-ow,” she stands, rubbing at her tailbone, “you’re one quick kitty.  I bet you’re not big with the ladies.”

            “For your information,” he tells her, “I don’t need to use my powers to disappoint women; I do that all on my own.”

            She shoots him a look, and Barry blanches under her gaze.  ‘ _It sounded better in my head…_ ’ he thinks. He’s distracted, and almost lets her slip away.

            He’s right in front of her: “Where do you think you’re going?”

            “Away,” she explains as if talking to an idiot.  And with as much sleep as Barry has she might be.

            “No, you’re not,” Barry says, “you are under arrest.”

            “Listen, Flash, was it?” she pats his shoulder, “I wasn’t going to actually steal that gaudy desk weight. I’ve got five, six of them in my penthouse alone-“

            “Then why were you here,” he asks, before it all clicks together in his head, “Batman.”

            “On the nose,” she taps it where it rests under his cowl.  “I’ve been hearing through the grapevine he’s been skulking in this town,” she continues, “so I decided to see what was so special about this place that he’d leave Gotham and all its… _perks_ for.” With this she rubs her hands down her body, as if showing him what exactly the Batman was missing.

            “You and me both, lady,” he scoffs.

            “What?” she asks, “Don’t like the competition?”

            “Don’t like him in general,” he tells her, “I don’t know what you see in him.”

            “Well, generally I would like to see him _inside_ of me,” she tells Barry which, ‘ _Ew,_ ’ is all Barry could think.  But then she rakes her eyes up and down Barry’s figure.  “Although…” she purrs, moving closer, “I _could_ be convinced to substitute.  I’m sure there must be a setting for slow _somewhere_ on your body…”

            Barry coughs, face flushed and sweating, before stepping away, too aware of how close she’s gotten. “Sorry to disappoint, well not really, but even if I was single I still don’t, uh, _do_ criminals.”

            She pouts. “Tell me one thing this girl has that I don’t.”

            “Well, for starters,” Barry says, “a penis.”

            Finally it seems he’s caught the woman off guard, and has to hold back his laughter at the expression on her face.  Butit soon shifts back to a smirk.

            “I can understand,” she says, “but nothing beats the soft curves of a woman.”

            Now Barry is the one left to blink.  She sidesteps him and continues towards the edge of the rooftop.

            Barry turns, “Wait!” She stops, tilting her head slightly. “So you’re just going to… leave?” he continues.

            She sighs, before turning back around to face him: “I didn’t steal, I didn’t have to break in because the guards are lousy at their jobs, what charge are you going to pin on me?”

            “It’s just,” Barry starts, “can you take the Batman with you?”

            The woman blinks. “If I knew where he was, I would,” she tells him, “That was kind of the point of tonight’s outing.”

            “I know the feeling,” Barry snorts, “it’s like if my life isn’t in danger, he doesn’t need to be around.”

            The woman stills a bit, startled again, before regaining her composure.  Barry only saw it for a second, but he can see the shift of interest clear in her eyes.

            “Danger?” she asks, moving closer like a cat playing with the mouse before it eats it, “Playing ‘damsel in distress’ are we?  I thought you were supposed to be a hero?”

            “I am,” Barry defends himself, “it’s just, kind of hard when you’re up against some sort of… clay monster or a fire bug or a woman who can control plants-“

            “Ivy was here?” she interrupts, before shaking her head to look away, “no wonder she missed our wine night.”

            “Anyway,” Barry continues, louder, “ever since the first Gotham crazy started showing up he’s been saving my life more frequently than before!  Like, recently he had the audacity to not only save me, but he spent at least two minutes carrying me!  Don’t even get me started on his… infuriating smirk and his stupid sense of humor!” He doesn’t know why he’s venting all of this to a criminal, but it feels good to talk to someone who has had experience dealing with the Batman.  Maybe he can get some dirt on the guy so he can finally get him out of his hair and out of his thoughts!  He swears if he isn’t thinking about Bruce, he’s usually obsessing over the Batman.

            But when Barry finally looks over at the criminal, she stands firmly in her place.  Her eyes are wide, and her mouth is shut but stretched far at the sides.  Barry can easily imagine a tail peeking between the lips.

            “What are you smiling for?” Barry asks her.

            “I think I might have _finally_ realized what this city has that Gotham doesn’t,” she tells him, walking backwards towards the edge.

            “Wait!” Barry asks again, “what is he doing here?  Better yet, who are you?”

            She winks at him, “Where’s the fun if I tell you that?  Try asking your Tuxedo Mask sometime.”  And with that she spreads her arms out and falls backwards.

            Barry rushes over to look over the edge, only to see she has disappeared into the trees behind the museum. Barry hangs his head, angry over letting another criminal escape.  He turns around to walk away, only to stop when he steps on something that doesn’t sound like gravel.  He looks down to see a small white card under his boot, and bends to pick it up.

            He’s looking it over, realizing the woman must have dropped it for him.  On it is a single word, her name.  The ‘w’ looks to be just three claw marks, but he can easily make it out:

            _Catwoman_

            “Batman… Catwoman…” Barry mutters, “I swear if the next person I meet is named Ratboy I’m losing my shit.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you really like this chapter, it's shorter than usual but I feel like the writing is very different. With practice come perfection, as they say. Leave kudos or comments!!!


	7. Gotham Knights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Take a look at what Gotham City has to offer Bruce once he's tasted what Central City has to offer. How does it affect him, and in what ways? Be on the look out for familiar faces here in Gotham, because you're getting a flash into the Gotham's heir and its protector's life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to all those who were patient, waiting for this. I deeply apologize for taking such a long time with this. If I take this long, it is only because every time I start writing, I end up hating it within the next hour.
> 
> It also doesn't help that I've been on a Star Wars and Supernatural fic-bender. It just comes a bit more naturally. However, I have been using them to help improve my own writing, so hopefully this chapter was worth the wait.
> 
> To end this opening, I would like to dedicate this chapter to my wonderful and strong friend Jess, who has had the worst beginnings to a semester that I have ever seen. Seriously, she's been pushing me to write this for weeks and all that's gotten her was life pushing her around.
> 
> So feel better! I hope this helps!

            Sunlight streamed through the open windows, hitting the desk. Stray beams highlight the scattered papers. Figures, numbers, and names all take on brighter hues under the additional light. Scribbled notes of rushed thoughts and ideas bask in the warm glow. The mess might deter many, but to the man behind the desk it is a welcome sight. Business might take him away from time to time, but he will always return: to his office, to his city, and to his home. His Gotham.

            “Mr. Wayne!” crackles over the intercom.

            He hits a button: “Yes?”

            “There’s someone here to speak to you,” it continues, “should I let her in?”

            Bruce thinks back, listing the appointments he had made for today in his head. The closest meeting he could think of was just before lunch, but he knows it couldn’t have been moved up because it was with Lucius. So whoever this mystery woman is, she wasn’t expected.

            “Sorry,” Bruce finally answers, “I really don’t have the time. Please tell her to schedule the next time around.”

            “Okay, sir, I’ll tell her tha-hey! Where do you think you’re going? Miss? Miss Va-“

            The door to Bruce’s office is thrown wide open, slamming against the wall. He winces, picturing the shards of fallen glass he heard shatter. His eyes move from the accident to the cause.

            The woman stands in the open space the door blocked. One hand is still splayed against the oak of his door, while the other rests, clenched, on her hip. She shoots him a coy smile, teeth hidden behind her pink lips. But her hard sea-foam green eyes tell a different story.

            Bruce recognizes her, remembers the hurricane before him. He begins to stand, only to stall when her hand leaves the door and stops in front of her.

            “Please, Bruce, sit,” she says, “I’ll only be a few seconds out of your day.”

            “I tried to stop her, Mr. Wayne,” an older woman gasps from behind, cheeks ruddy and sweat-matted, “but she’s strong.”

            “Zumba and Muay Thai,” the first woman tells Bruce’s assistant, “hell of a combo.”

            “That’s alright, Miss Jones,” Bruce interrupts, “I’ll handle Miss Vale.”

            Vicki smiles at the grumble Miss Jones shoots at her, but acquiesces to her boss’s demands. Miss Jones closes the door behind her. Vicki stalks into the room, heels clacking until she stops in front of a chair. She sits, crossing one leg over the other. She’s already got a pad and pencil in hand, and Bruce can see her phone resting on her knee. He can also see the red light.

            “So,” Bruce starts, “to what do I owe the pleasure, Miss Vale?”

            “Please, Bruce,” Vicki laughs, “no need to be so formal. Vickie is just fine, although I _do_ prefer the way you said it that one night after that charity dinner-“

            “Vickie,” Bruce continues, “please.” He rubs at the center of his brows.

            “Gosh, Bruce, it’s always business with you,” Vickie smiles, “always want to get right into the thick of it, without any warning. I mean do you know how shocked everyone was when you mounted your return to Gotham? Even I didn’t know until now!”

            Bruce casts her a withering glance. He’s certain he saw her at the airport, lost among the sea of paparazzi and photographers and reporters. Granted, she might not have been, seeing as he was blinded within the first three seconds from the flashing lights of his ‘fans’.

            “Well,” he smiles now, “I don’t think I nor my comings or goings should be fussed over when there are so many other important things going on. My ego can handle being relegated to page two.”

            Vickie shakes her head, “Oh Bruce, modest too? You’re too much. But, your goings is one of the reasons I have to interview you.”

            “Is it?”

            “Yes,” Vickie continues, “Central City? That place has gotten interesting over the past couple of months. A massive explosion… people with strange abilities… and a hero in red spandex… add Gotham’s Prodigal Son into the mix and you’ve got something the people here want to read.”

            “Well, unfortunately for you, I was not privy to anything out of the ordinary during my trip,” Bruce tells her, hands folded in front of him.

            Vickie smirks. “Well then,” she sighs, “I’ll just have to ask you about some regular faces.”

            Bruce quirks a brow, “Meaning?”

            “Do you know why and/or how Arkham inmates are escaping and attacking Wayne-controlled capital in Central City?”

            “First of all, they aren’t inmates, they’re patients. Patients whose movements would best be known by the many doctors and nurses who work round-the-clock to treat them,” Bruce says, “Secondly, even if I did know anything about the siege I wouldn’t find it smart to discuss it with the press.”

            “Then how about with just me,” Vickie puts the pencil down, “off the record.”

            “You do know I’m not falling for that again.” He eyes the still-blinking phone.

            Vickie crosses her arms and slouches back into her seat.

            “Fine,” she huffs, “I get it. Can’t divulge company secrets. Not even for the person who gave you the _best_ night ever.”

            Bruce rolls his eyes. “Are you sure?” he asks, “I always assumed it was the other way around.”

            Vickie tucks a finger under her chin. “Well, I mean it wasn’t the _worst_ …”

            Bruce blinks. Then his mouth presses into a fine line. “Is there anything else you might want to ask before I get back to work?”

            “Well, I do have a few questions on the Flash,” Vickie smiles, “you had to have seen him in your time in Central.”

            “I did,” Bruce starts, “and he’s very… fast. But from what I’ve seen and heard he isn’t the best… not like Batman.”

            “Well, no one is like Batman,” Vickie agrees, “if I ever got that man alone…”

            Bruce smirks, “You’d what?”

            “I’d interview him and figure out who’s beneath that cowl!” she says, startling Bruce. “But then,” she continues, “then I’d sleep with him.”

            “I’m glad you’ve got your priorities in order,” Bruce snarks, “now if that’s all-“

            “Actually,” Vickie sighs, “I got one more for you. And believe me I wouldn’t ask this, but Ted over in Society beat me in a bet, so I owe him-“

            “Yes, Vickie,” Bruce grumbles, “what is it?”

            “While in Central City…” she asks, “did you happen to meet anyone… _interesting_?”

            “Interesting?” Bruce parrots, “I don’t-I don’t know what you mean.”

            “You know,” Vickie continues, “ _interesting_. Any girls you might have taken _more_ than one glance at.”

            “Oh,” Bruce understands. He turns away for a moment, face tinted pink. He has an answer to her question. Indeed, he met someone interesting. Someone who has light, chestnut hair that is soft to the touch. Whose blue eyes crinkle a certain way when he finds something really funny. With a smile that seems brighter than the sun in Metropolis…

            “Ahem… Bruce?”

            Bruce startles, turning back to see Vickie leaning forward in her seat, a brow dipped in interest. She’s got a fist under her chin, and a gleam in her eye.

            “So,” she continues, “I take it that’s a yes?”

            “I can confidently tell you Miss Vale,” Bruce stands, “I am in no relationship with any woman from Central City, interesting or otherwise. Now if you are done?”

            He motions towards the door. She takes a beat before slowly rising from the chair.

            “I get it Bruce, I do,” she says while walking with him to the door, “Don’t want to scar the poor girl with the parties and the paparazzi.”

            “Miss Vale-“

            “But if I could offer some advice,” she turns to him, a manicured hand rests on his shoulder, “be careful.”

            “What are you talking about?”

            “Not every reporter like me will be as understanding,” she continues, “they might have seen what you were doing, where you were just then, and they wouldn’t have left you alone.” She leans in close, lips right next to his ear, “They might even go for the kill.”

            Bruce swallows.

            “Thank you again Bruce,” she says, a safer distance away, “it’s not much, but it’ll get the boss off my back.” She turns, whacking Bruce with her strawberry blonde hair, and leaves.

            He closes the door behind her, scratching at his nose and returning to his seat. He grabs a pen, ready to continue his workday, however with much more on his mind than he wanted.

* * *

 

           Cold wind blows against the old brick manor. The windows are dim in almost every room, save for a few. In one, the only electric light is running on a desk, where a young teen sits behind it, reading. The other light comes from the fireplace burning bright at the other end of the room. Around the boy’s shoulders rests a warm blanket, the likes of which he snuggles deeper into with each passing chapter.

            But then he hears the sound of the door opening. He jumps, but when he realizes who it is when the door slams shut once more, he smiles.

            He jumps from the large, plush chair, throwing the blanket from his shoulders. The boy scampers from the study, sliding down the halls till he reaches the parlor.

            He skids to a stop at the entrance, taking care to keep quiet. He sees Alfred hanging jackets, with a single eye trained on him. But soon enough the teen sees another familiar profile, wearing a less than familiar smile.

            Bruce stands with his back to the boy, on his phone. He can’t make out whom Bruce is talking to, but it’s the perfect distraction.

            It would be a waste if he didn’t practice his sneaking skills on this rare opportunity. He keeps to the shadows, moving at just the right speed to go unnoticed but still travel.

            He’s behind him now, with arms akimbo, ready to pounce. Just as his legs bend, ready to push upwards, does the unfortunate happen.

            Bruce laughs.

            The boy is so stunned he shrieks, legs giving out under him leaving him to greet the ground with his behind.

            Bruce turns.

            “Oh, that? That was nothing,” Bruce narrows his brows, “Sorry, sorry I have to hang up now. Completely unrelated to the first thing.” He returns to the smile, “Yeah, yeah, you have a good night, too. Don’t work _too_ hard, and… I’ll call you tomorrow.”

            He hangs up the phone, pocketing it. Bruce places both fists on his hips. He curls his lips into his trademark smirk.

            “You’ll have to do better than that, Dick,” he shakes his head.

            “I almost had you!” Dick whines, “You scared me, is all!”

            “That’s no excuse,” Bruce crosses his arms.

            “Come on, you have to admit,” Dick argues, returning the stance from his position, “what you were doing was really… freaky.”

            Now Bruce is at a loss. “What did _I_ do?” he asks.

            “You laughed!”

            Silence.

            Bruce’s smirk falls into an even more familiar frown. “I laugh,” he grumbles.

            Now Dick is the one smirking. “No,” he snarks, “at best, what you do can be called chuckling. I’ve _never_ heard that sound come out of your body before…”

            He’s ready to fire a witty retort, but the words don’t even make it past his lips when the suspicious coughing of his butler interrupts him.

            “Anything you’d like to add, Alfred?” he asks the older gentleman, brow quirked.

            “Oh, nothing really,” the old man smiles, “just that I have to agree with the young Master Richard.”

            “See!” Dick crows.

            Bruce covers his face with his hands, “Not you too.”

            “In fact,” Alfred continues, “laughing seems to be the least of your problems. I do believe I’m seeing wrinkles on your face.”

            Bruce startles. He whips his head around to find the closest mirror. He moves closer to the one nearest the door, and discovers Alfred isn’t that far off. They’re very faint, but the lines have started to grandfather themselves into his face, near his eyes, nose, and mouth.

            “What are these?” Bruce asks, poking his face.

            “I believe those are called laugh lines, Master Bruce,” Alfred deadpans, “if that’s shocking you should probably sit before you notice the bags under your eyes.”

            “What do you mean?”

            “I think he means they’re gone!”

            “Dick!”

            Dick is now crowding into Bruce’s personal space, inspecting all the new features his father has gained since his excursion to Central City. He said he’d be there on business and… well, _business_. But the evidence doesn’t add up. Bruce looks well-rested, relaxed, with a healthy glow that comes from spending too many hours in the sun than in the moon. There even seems to be less scars, cuts, and bruises on him than when he left!

            “I thought you said this wasn’t a vacation!”

            “It wasn’t,” Bruce pushes back, “It isn’t. I still have unfinished business in Central and I’ll be returning there in a couple of days.”

            “Can I come?” Dick leans on Bruce’s arms, eyes wide.

            “No,” he tells his ward, “you still have school. Besides, it’s dangerous in Central City. There’s people with powers… ones we haven’t faced before.”

            “Come on,” Dick begs, “I wanna go! I want to meet the Flash!”

            “Him?” Bruce asks, “Don’t worry, he’s not that special. Couldn’t even take down Firefly.”

            “So you’ve met him!” Dick yells, “What’s he like? How’d he get his powers? Do you know his secret identity? Who is he under the cowl?”

            Dick has him backed against a wall, and Bruce can’t seem to find an escape. He looks to his butler, only to see he’s _conveniently_ left them alone for the time being.

            “Well, Dick, he’s… he’s um-“ ‘ _He’s strong… powerful, but untrained. He’s a forensic scientist down at Central City’s Police Department. He smells amazing and he’s probably the nicest human being I’ve ever met, with dimples that can crack diamonds. He’s-‘_ “He’s doing his best.”

            “Really?” Dick shoots him a look, “That’s it?”

            “For now.”

            “Then why are your cheeks red-“

            “Don’t you have homework you need to be finishing?”

            Dick looks away, the ball back in Bruce’s court.

            “Well, I mean…”

            “Finish it,” Bruce tells him, “or no patrol.”

            Dick finally races away, leaving Bruce to breathe out a sigh of relief.

            “Being a parent is never easy,” Alfred says from behind, “just wait until you bring Master Allen over to meet the boy.”

            Bruce startles, but soon relaxes. He huffs a breath, “Like that’s going to happen.”

            “What do you mean?”

            Bruce walks towards the other exit, hands in his pocket. His right hand toys with his phone; still warm from when he bid Barry a fond farewell. Maybe… too fond.

            “What I mean,” Bruce continues, “is that once I figure out what’s going on with Central City and the connection between my Wayne assets and Arkham… I’m going to have to end it.”

            “Are you sure?”

            “I’ll have to,” Bruce continues, slower and more somber, “his responsibilities are in Central while mine are in Gotham. And once he finds out how tough it is to date… Bruce Wayne, he’ll be fine with me gone.”

            “No, sir, what I meant,” Alfred clarifies, “is are you sure you will be able to?”

            Bruce turns, cheeks returning to a darker shade. “Wha-what are you talking about?”

            “I’m just pointing out, sir,” Alfred says, “that when you first arrived in Gotham, you called Mister Allen… and when you broke for lunch, you made sure to keep your phone within reach at all times, and during the hour chuckled numerous times… and I do believe it was Mister Allen again who you were speaking with once you entered the car and, if not for Master Richard’s interruption, would have continued speaking with until you decided it was time to don your armor.”

            Bruce turns back around, face completely flushed.

            “Alfred,” he gets out, “i-it’s just not possible. I can’t be the Batman _and_ in a relationship.”

            He feels a heavy hand on his shoulder.

            “Who says they have to be separated.”

            He can hear Alfred’s heels clicking away. But he doesn’t turn until he’s sure his face has regained some composure. He turns to find Alfred long gone.

            Thoughts rush through his head. They turn around Alfred’s words… of conversations with Barry… of his work and of his… _work_.

            Soon enough he moves towards the grandfather clock in a nearby hallway, twisting its hands until they stop completely, freeing the clock from its hinges.

            He decides that focusing on his usual obsession, while descending into the dimly lit cave, is much easier and less frightening then treading unknown territories.  Otherwise known as his emotions.

* * *

 

            The city is different than he remembers: darker, colder… like an ever-present fog has been hanging in the air. And he’s only noticing it now. He peers into the darkness, scouring his vision for any sign of an activity that to him will be a call to arms. Any minute now, he’ll be needed. Any minute-

            “I’m bored.”

            He huffs, casting a withering glance at his sidekick. Robin sits on the edge of the building, swinging his legs back and forth. He’s leaning back on his hands, blowing at loose strands of hair.

            “You’re supposed to be vigilant,” Batman grumbles, “crime can strike at any moment.”

            “It doesn’t seem like it…”

            Batman takes his eyes off of his city to glare at his young ward.

            They started the night out full of energy, swinging across the city on the usual skyscrapers he’s used to. Gotham City has been gentrified enough that the Dynamic Duo don’t have a hard time finding ledges to hook their grappling hooks on and swing to their heart’s content. But as the hours wore on, it seemed like Batman’s first night back would be a bust.

            That is, until he hears the familiar sound of skin meeting skin… hard.

            Now he smirks, “What about now?”

            Robin stands, stretching. “Now,” he says, “not so much.”

            The two leap into action. In the alley beneath them, a gang of men crowd against a defenseless couple. There’s already some blood, and the men are itching for more. He can smell alcohol on the group, and smirks. That means slowed movements, and an easy fight, if it comes to that.

            They land between the gang and the two targets. Robin already has his hands around his escrima sticks, while Batman has in his knuckles, at least three smaller batarangs, ready to launch.

            “Please, stand down,” Batman commands, “I don’t want this to end violently. Especially in front of the boy.”

            “Batman?” the apparent leader slurs out, “What’re you doing? We’re not th’ones you sh’ld be talkin’ to. Is’ tho’ guysss.”

            Batman cranes his head behind him. He sees two men. One is on the ground, blood leaking from his nose and some dripping from the corner of his lips. The other tries to help him up, frozen once Batman turned his gaze on them. He sees them hand-in-hand.

            His knuckles tighten around his bat-a-rangs.

            “Leave,” he orders, “before it gets ugly.”

            The man’s drunken eyes harden, realizing which side Batman has chosen. “Make us,” he spits.

            Batman smirks.

            He launches his weapons out from under his cape. They hit the man on his chest, not strong enough to kill, but with enough force that once they were in there, they were _in_ there. Batman follows it up, throwing his body forward, and using the momentum to slam him to the ground. One swift punch and the leader of the rag tag group of alcoholics is out.

            Robin on the other hand, launched himself at the youngest of the group. He jumps, landing first on his hands then springing at the drunk. He tightens his legs around the man’s neck, using the jump to swing him to the ground, too. He finishes with a blow to the skull with his weapon.

            Batman’s back up, facing two of the men head-on. One throws a sloppy punch, which he dodges. He takes the outstretched arm and twists, breaking the bone hidden beneath the thick layer of muscle. Then he flips him over his right shoulder into the waiting body of the next guy. He gets out his grappling hook and launches it, tying the two guys together.

            Robin, on the other hand, has been battering away at a guy who had enough awareness to grab the lid off of a trashcan. As the most sober of the bunch, he’s doing well, keeping up with Robin’s blows. But soon enough, Robin lobs one stick high up, aiming for the shoulder. The man blocks, leaving a wide space for his other escrima to take a crack at the man’s kneecap. The bone fractures, and the man drops his shield in pain. A swift kick at his head knocks him out for good.

            He takes a breath, but that’s all that’s needed for the last man to grab him from the waist. He’s burly, and Robin can feel the hair on the man’s arm on his own. He can also feel the knife pressed against his neck.

            “Stan’ down,” the guy slurs, “or the kid’ll be gutted like we were plannin’ on doin’ t’ these two _fags_.”

            Batman doesn’t move, but his eyes darken.

            Robin, on the other hand, doesn’t stop.

            “That’s not very nice,” he bites, “don’t you know the saying? If you don’t have anything nice to say… deal with a broken nose!”

            Robin slams his head back, hard enough he can hear the pop of the cartilage. It’s gushing, but he doesn’t stay to find out how much. The man dropped both Robin and the knife, using his hands to cover his nose instead. When he finally opens his eyes again, it’s to see Batman closing in on him. It only takes one uppercut.

            The dust settles, and the vigilantes catch their breath.

            Batman feels a hand on his shoulder, and he turns, fist raised. However, he stops, when he notices it was only one of the men he saved tonight.

            “Thank you,” he says, wiping away the last of the dried blood from his face, “could’a handled ‘em… but the help was appreciated.”

            “Sorry about him,” the other man interrupts, pulling his partner back with their joined hands, “what he means is that we’re thankful for taking care of that ugly situation.”

            “All in a day’s work, citizen,” Batman says, “please call the cops and let them know where they can pick up these men. And… I’m sorry for what they were about to do.”

            The man nods, casting sad eyes on the unconscious group of would-be attackers. “It’s not your fault,” he tells him, “Sometimes there’s ugly in the world. But,” he turns back to Batman, “there’s also good. So thank you, again.”

            Batman nods, “Stay safe.”

            He and Robin shoot off, swinging towards another building not far from the scene of the crime. They wait there until the familiar lights of Gotham City’s finest come into view. They stay, in the shadows, as the rowdy men are toted off in the cruisers. They’re even there to see the men take statements.

            Robin has his finger on the trigger, ready to fire his grapple and repel out of there, while Batman still watches the two.

            They may look worse for wear, but they’re still smiling. They’re walking away from the alley now, hand in hand.

            They are the oddest pair, Batman figures. One is all brash, plaid, and freckles, ready to jump into a fight if need be. The other is calm, thoughtful, with blue eyes that seem to be older than they appear.

            Suddenly, in the place of those two, Batman sees himself and Barry. Sees them walking together, in costume. Sees where the red meets the black, their gloved hands held tight between them. Seeing himself smiling, seeing _Batman_ smiling.

            “Bruce?”

            He blinks. The couple is out of sight.

            “Let’s get you home,” he mutters, “it’s a school night.”

            The duo swings off in the direction of Wayne Manor.

* * *

 

            Bruce slowly descends onto his bed. A bed he’s only noticing is a bit too big for his liking.

            He’s tired, limbs sagging against the sheets. His eyelids move closer and closer together, and he can feel himself drifting into sleep.

            But he’s kept from the beautiful slumber by the sound of his cell, chirping nearby.

            He throws a hand out, rummaging blindly for the device on his nightstand. When he does find it, he has to squint at how bright it is.

            After turning down the light, he finally sees what the alert was for. Apparently, he received a message.

            He opens it, and can’t help the smile that springs to his face.

            The text must have been sent hours ago, during a time he was either in the cave or when he left it down there while out fighting crime. It must have only gotten through know, at a time he would rather be looking at his eyelids than at his phone’s screen. But he doesn’t mind, since the picture on the phone is better than anything his eyelids could offer.

            On the tiny screen, a small photo of Barry appears. His head is resting on a pillow, and Bruce can tell he’s only closing his eyes for the sake of the picture.

            _Sweet dreams, Bruce ;)_

After that, Bruce doesn’t drift. He falls into it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What did you think?
> 
> I hope you really enjoyed it! I'm not going to make any promises but I will try my hardest to get these chapters out in more regular intervals.
> 
> Speaking of, don't get too used to Bruce running the show, as we'll be back to Central City and Barry Allen!
> 
> Bonus: I hope you all like my little easter egg I included near the end. If you noticed the two other CW characters, let me know in the comments. Also in the comments, just please go out of your way to flatter me as positive energy is just a beautiful thing to give to other human beings.
> 
> Thank you!


	8. Cracks in the Mirror

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A new criminal has confounded the Central City Police Department, leading to some tireless nights for its officers. But what is the thief doing that has allowed him to evade capture? Barry tries to figure it out, hoping to solve this case without the help of a crazed bat man.  
> Meanwhile, things heat up between Bruce and Barry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Howdy there, fans!  
> I'm gonna try and be more on top of this story, getting out more chapters. But this will take a back-seat if I need to focus on work, since school is still a thing in my life. So I hope you enjoy!

            Barry’s head is slumped against the smooth marble. His body rises and falls slowly. His face is mushed; mouth open, and there’s a small pool of drool starting to form. Behind him, machines continue to run without him. In the centrifuge, mixtures spin and separate into their various levels.   Computers process various amounts of data, narrowing down the answer to the finest detail. Even the simplest machine there, his phone, is at work. It vibrates, slowly and slowly getting closer to the edge of the counter.

            It’s a peaceful chaos. The orchestra of beeps was like a mechanic melody.

            That is, until the door slams itself open.

            “Wha-“

            “Here he is, Captain Singh,” Eddie announces to the room, practically yelling, “at work. Like he’s supposed to be!”

            Barry jumps into action, spinning towards the closest machine. He sticks his face into the scope, only to retract it just as fast, hand rubbing at the sudden pain in his eyes. He back tracks, his other arm out, flailing. He bumps into the table, hand finding purchase on a couple of files. Barry’s legs, however, tangle themselves in the stool he was sitting on. He goes down faster than he would if he used his powers. The files fall with him, exploding everywhere.

            Eddie sighs.

            Captain Singh, followed by Detective Joe West, enter at the tail end. They take in the mess with wide eyes.

            “What,” Singh begins, only to stop, “you know what, I don’t even wanna know. Just… tell me what you found.”

            Barry splutters, picking himself back up. He abandons the papers for now, deciding dealing with his boss is much more important.

            “Well,” he starts, “I was able to analyze some of the fluids we found at the crime scene.”

            “And?” Singh asks, leaning both palms across the counter, West to his right and Eddie to the left.

            “And,” Barry sighs, “inconclusive.”

            “Dammit Allen!” Director Singh pounds his fist, “we need answers fast! Surveillance tapes have given us nothing and any possible eyewitnesses have been… indisposed. Forensics was our last option!”

            “I don’t know what to tell you, sir,” Barry says, “we’ve been running all the tests we can think of. DNA only belonged to guards, as did fingerprints. The only clue we found was… this.”

            He reaches towards a small, plastic baggy near the center of the table. Its contents were shards and glass dust of the single clue the criminal left.

            “This is the only lead the criminal left,” Barry explains, “we’re having a hard time tracing the origin of the glass-all and any surface that could have been its source was _surprisingly_ left in tact.”

            Singh sighs, dragging a hand down his face. He pushes back up, heading towards the door. “Figure it out, Allen,” he says, “if we don’t catch this criminal soon… I don’t know what will happen. But I’ll make sure _you_ won’t like it.”

            With that, he leaves.

Eddie and Joe stick around, moving to the other side of the table: closer to Barry.

            “So,” Joe asks, “did Cisco and Caitlin have anything to say about the glass samples?”

            “Not yet,” Barry sighs, moving away from the two to begin cleaning up his mess, “so far all the tests they’ve tried have been as inconclusive as ours.”

            “What about that other guy,” Eddie asks, helping Barry with the papers, “the one from Gotham?”

            “Him?” Barry pouts, “I don’t think this has anything to do with him. Besides, he doesn’t look like he commits petty theft-“

            Eddie whacks him with the files he managed to pick up. “No, idiot,” he bites, “I mean… do you think he might be able to help?”

            “Help!” Barry yelps, “Him and the law don’t have the best track record.”

            “Maybe,” Joe slides in, “but he might help another hero?”

            Barry looks back in forth, head bobbing between the two detectives, until he catches on. He blushes, stepping back. “No!” he tells them, “I, I don’t want to work with-and even if, I can’t reach him! He might not even _be_ in Central City anymore!”

            He is. Barry’s been more aware since the last time. Notices how the shadow now has eyes. Hears the cape billowing in the wind. Can feel his presence like static in the air.

            “Just try,” Joe says, “you never know what he’ll say. Stranger things have happened.”

            Eddie snorts, “Yeah, I mean just look at your life.”

            Joe and Barry both shoot Eddie the same look. Eddie holds up his hands, backing away slightly. “Sorry,” he says.

            Barry turns back to Joe, “We’ll figure this out, Joe, trust us.”

            “I trust you,” he says, laying a hand on Barry, “All of you. Now figure this out before Singh actually pulls through on his threats.” He exits as well.

            Barry exhales, straightening the files in his hands before laying them down. He’s about to continue with his work when he feels a set of eyes on him. He cranes his neck, only to see Eddie looking at him, teeth caught between his lips.

            “Eddie?” Barry kneads the space between his eyes, “what is it? I have a busy day, and another jab at my self-esteem won’t make it any shorter.”

            He opens his mouth, then closes it. Eddie does this for a few minutes before finally looking away. Instead, he shoves the files in his hands at Barry. Barry, even with his speed, fumbles at the suddenness of the choppy gesture.

            “You’ll get the job done,” Eddie says awkwardly, “you always do.”

            Eddie follows Joe out of the room, leaving Barry to his confusion. He starts to think about what Eddie is up to, what he might be thinking, but decided his energies were best spent elsewhere.

            Outside Barry’s lab, Eddie walks stiffly back to his office, eyes closed. He has the route memorized so well he doesn’t need his sight.

            Well, until today that is.

            He crashes into something. Eddie falls, to the ground, and with him a sandwich filled with various deli meats and sauces. The sauces, unfortunately, get all over his pristine white shirt.

            “Oh my God!” a soft voice squeaks out, “I’m so sorry!”

            Eddie looks up in a daze. Above him, a young woman with blonde hair looks on at him in worry. Her big blue eyes at half-mast thanks to her eyebrows, and soft, pink lips pulled in worry by her teeth.

            “No, no,” he starts to get up, unaided, “my fault. I _really_ should have been looking where I was going.”

            “Well, I couldn’t have been any better,” the woman continues, “first day here and I’m still getting my bearings. I was too busy trying to find my desk instead of looking out for speed bumps. And I thought I left the obstacle course back at the academy!”

            She starts laughing, patting his back, only for her chuckle to deflate when she only hears _her_ laughter.

            “Listen,” she says, “I totally get if you’re mad at me-I’ll pay for your dry cleaning! I mean, if that’s what you want?”

            “What?” Eddie responds, “Sorry, I’m just-it’s not a good time. Keep up the good work, though.”

            He takes his leave, and the woman can hear soft cursing as he walks away.

            Another officer sidles up to her, “Don’t let Detective Thawne get to you, Officer Spivot, he’s been caught in some weird mood swing for weeks.”

            Patty turns to her comrade, “Really?” She looks back at where she can just make out the back of his blonde head. “Wonder what for?”

            The older officer shoots her a look, “You’ll find out. This station is worse than a beauty parlor with how gossip gets around. Thawne, along with West and Allen, are basically the stars in our office’s telenovela.”

            Patty looks up, her eyes wide with curiosity. “Really?” she asks, smiling, “I can’t wait to meet them _all_ then!”

* * *

 

            Barry rests his head on his palm, fighting back a yawn with each click of the remote. Having exhausted every test in the station’s lab, he’s accepted his fate of waiting for Caitlin and Cisco to finish on their end. Too bad they were having as much luck as he was.

            But after only spending a half hour at home, he was ready to rush over and help them out any way he could instead of flipping through channels with nothing on them.

            That is, until he heard the doorbell ring.

            “I’ll get it,” he calls up, rising slowly. The only other person in the house was Joe, but Barry had sent him up earlier for some rest. When he got home, he found his father near drowning in a puddle of his own spit. He doubts he’s asleep, but he feels better with him upstairs than down.

            Barry takes his time getting to the door, scratching at his stomach under his ratty t-shirt. He pads over softly in his socks. He pulls at his boxers, keeping them from sliding further down his hips.

            Without thinking, he opens the door, only to slam it hard with a shriek.

            “Barry?” Bruce laughs from the other side, “You okay in there?”

            Barry’s back is against the door.

            “Can I come in?”

            He bangs his head against the door, “In a minute!”

            He takes a look around the living room, cursing even more. Papers are scattered everywhere. There are plates in the sink, leftover dinners still stuck to some. A strange smell drifts throughout the ground floor, something Barry hasn’t noticed until now.

            Barry cleans. He cleans fast. He does his best to make the downstairs as spotless as it can be. He even destroys the Febreeze bottle with how hard he squeezes the nozzle.

            He sags against the wall once he deems everything to be neat and tidy enough for his boyfriend. He turns to open the door once again, when a cold breeze shoots right through him. It reminds him of the little he has on.

            “One more second!” he calls, racing upstairs, searching for a change of clothes. He throws off his shirt, opting for a fresher tank he eyes in his dresser. Caitlin said it showed off his muscles, as well as matched his eyes. The forest green slips on easily. He spends longer trying to find pants. He settles on a pair of dark jeans he finds in the back of his closet. He remembers why they were back there: he put on weight and was unable to fit into them. But thanks to a super-metabolism, that is a problem of the past. They now fit snugly, hugging his hips.

            He slides out, bouncing down the steps. However, he manages to stub his toe on the banister by turning a bit to fast while stepping off. Barry rubs at it, only to realize it was poking out of his stock as if to tell him the fate of winter. He turns to race back up the steps, but freezes when he hears knocking from the door.

            “Shit,” he whispers, spinning back around. He hops from one foot to the next, tugging off his socks. He bunches them up and tosses them far away from the door.

            Barry opens the door, leaning against the jamb in a faux imitation of seduction. “Bruce?” he quirks a brow and smirks, “What a surprise! And here I am, all a mess.”

            Bruce mirrors his smirk. “Nice try,” he snarks, breezing by Barry, “A for effort, but you still need to work on your execution.”

            Barry slips, blushing. “Why yes Bruce,” he mumbles, following, “please come in, make yourself comfortable.”

            “Don’t mind if I do.”

            Bruce already kicked off his shoes, slumping into the couch. His jacket was thrown on a hook the second he stepped through the door. He takes over for Barry, flipping through channels.

            Barry stares for a bit, standing. “Do you,” he asks, “Do you want anything?”

            He thinks, “Nah. Just you.”

            Barry smiles, joining Bruce on the couch. He sits comfortably close. Bruce throws his arm behind the couch, and Barry snuggles into the space he provided. His feet join Bruce’s on the coffee table, tangling them together.

            Bruce settles on a movie, an old one. They don’t speak; content to just enjoy the film and each other. It’s not every day they get to spend _quiet_ time together, not doing anything other than just be in the same space.

            Sure, they’ve been seeing a lot of each other in recent weeks. When Bruce came back from Gotham, that entire first week Barry was out every night on a different romantic outing. It slowed, after that, but they still had at least one date a week. And they had lunch together almost ever other day.

            Today was one of those days, until Bruce called that morning to let him know he would not be able to make it. He got called late last night, back to Gotham, and had to take the next flight out.

            When the credits start to roll, Barry turns: “How come you’re back so early?”

            Bruce moves in closer. “Because,” he explains, “I missed you.”

            He blinks. “Really?”

            Bruce smiles down at the speedster, “Of course.”

            Their faces are inches from one another. They are locked in each other’s orbit, having drifted too close to pull away. But they don’t care.

            Like lightning, Barry’s lips are on Bruce’s. He throws his hand into Bruce’s hair, mussing up the coif by running his fingers back and forth through the raven locks. He shifts, bringing his knees under him so he’s angled better.

            Bruce, for his part, returns the fervor. He slides his hands to grip at Barry’s shoulders. He pushes down, climbing on top of Barry’s waist. He straddles the younger man, still kissing, and skims his hands under the tank. Barry’s skin is hot, and most likely flushed.

            “Missed this, too,” Bruce mumbles against Barry’s lips, “So much.”

            Barry moans into the kiss, throwing a leg over Bruce to bring him even closer. Now two hands run rampant through Bruce’s hair. With each passing second, Barry enjoys more and more of their time together.

            Bruce moves his lips down to Barry’s collarbone, making it harder for Barry to stifle his satisfied groans.

            “Barry?” Bruce kisses into his skin.

            “Y-yeah?”

            “Are you getting a call?”

            Barry opens an eye to look down at Bruce, who hasn’t stopped his ministrations. “What?” Barry asks, “What are you talking about?”

            “Your phone?” Bruce continues, “someone must really want your attention, it’s vibrating like crazy.”

            Barry stills, hoping his body does so as well. Bruce follows his lead. He lifts his head, quirking a brow at the man beneath him. Barry smiles apologetically.

            “I should probably answer that, then.”

            “But it stopped?”

            Barry’s about to answer when he hears footsteps pounding their way down the stairs.

            “Barry! There’s been another robbery! We need to-oh.”

            Barry reacts, jumping up from the couch. Bruce, however, flips onto his back off the couch.

            “Ow…”

            Joe stands at the halfway mark of the stairs, “Did I… interrupt something?”

            “A robbery?” Barry says instead, standing up, “How far away?” He’s already moving.

            “It’s near the precinct,” Joe starts, “already got the place surrounded, so we better hurry.”

            “Let’s go,” Barry says, hand on the doorknob.

            “…Barry?”

            “What, Joe?” he stops, face still flushed. He’s not looking at his elder. He can’t, right now.

            “Don’t you think you should change first?” Joe asks.

            “Change?” Barry parrots. His eyes dart towards Bruce. He doesn’t notice, still distracted by the pain in his back. “Joe, I don’t think I should change _now_ …”

            Joe rolls his eyes. “Sure, don’t change,” Joe heads towards the door himself, “in fact, don’t even put on shoes!”

            “What?” Barry asks, looking down. It’s then he remembers his _lack_ of footwear. “Right!” Barry yelps, face even redder, “I should-I’ll go do that.”

            He races up the stairs. Barry slips on some new socks and laces up his sneakers before hurrying back down.

            Bruce is at the door now, his and Barry’s jackets in hand.

            Barry smiles, “Thanks.”

            “No problem,” Bruce returns with a kiss, “stay safe. And take it slow!”

            Barry races away towards the car, chuckling softly.

            ‘ _If you only knew…_ ’

* * *

 

            Joe’s car rolls up to the scene of the crime. He and Barry pop the doors, climbing out. Unfortunately, they made it just in time to see some of their co-workers rolling out the yellow tape.

            Eddie jogs over to the two, “Where were you two?”

            Joe glances at Barry. “We got held up,” he answers, “can you tell us what happened?”

            “Nothing much to tell,” Eddie sighs, “we hear the alarm and rush over, set up blockades at any and all possible escape routes and exits. We prep the team to storm the building, and when we finally do he’s gone! Not so much as a sound! We’re checking the surveillance but don’t expect much.”

            “Any eye-witnesses?” Barry asks.

            “One,” Eddie replies, “but I don’t think he’ll talk due to the gash in his neck.”

            All three wince.

            “Dammit,” Joe curses, striding forward, “this guy is _seriously_ starting to get on my nerves!”

            “As well as mine.”

            Director Singh walks up to the group, face akin to a storm cloud. A shiver runs through them all.

            “This is the sixth crime in two weeks,” he grits, “and now I’ve got the mayor _breathing_ down my neck!”

            “Singh, we’re doing the best we can-“

            “Stuff it West,” he interrupts, “your best isn’t cutting it. So as of now, no one gets any rest until this criminal is brought in.”

            “Sir!” Eddie yelps.

            “No discussion,” Singh squints, “I want you and your partner on this case and _only_ this case. And Allen,” he turns, “that goes double for you!”

            “Double?” Barry asks, eyes wide.

            “Or,” the Director continues, “I can give you more hours given the amount of hickeys you have.”

            Barry shuts up, cheeks red: a common occurrence on this day.

            “Now I’m going home to my loving fiancé,” Singh turns, “where I will drink, and when I wake up from a self-inflicted black out, I better have some _damn answers_.” He stomps back to his car. Each man he left blown away by Hurricane Singh.

            Joe pinches his nose between his thumb and forefinger. “I’m going to get some coffee,” he sighs, “Eddie, help Barry get as much evidence as he can and load it into the car. We’re driving over to STAR.”

            “Sure thing, boss,” Eddie salutes Joe’s retreating figure. It’s just him and Barry now.

            The silence is thick, and awkward.

            “So,” Eddie starts, hand in his pockets, “you have the gear with you or-“

            “I need to go get it,” Barry answers.

            “Gotcha,” Eddie nods. He wants to say something else, Barry can tell.

            “What?” he sighs.

            Eddie blinks.

            “What?” Barry repeats, “What else do you have to say? Something’s on your mind, so… spill.”

            Eddie opens his mouth, only to clamp it shut. “S’nothin,” he mumbles, “just, uh… just how many hickeys _do_ you have?”

            Barry’s eye twitches.

            “Just,” Barry sighs, “Just go call Caitlin. Tell her to get Cisco and meet us at the lab.”

            He rushes off, leaving Eddie behind to kick at the dust.

* * *

 

            “Why must you torment me so?”

            Cisco lays, collapsed on the stretcher near the lab. He whines, rubbing at where his nose met something heavy.

            “If I can’t sleep neither can you,” Caitlin yawns back, “besides, they’ll be here any minute.”

            “More like any second,” Barry announces, carrying a collection of evidence along with Joe and Eddie who trail close behind him.

            “What took you guys?” Cisco rises, rubbing at his eye.

            “Had to swing by the lab for all the evidence,” Joe answers, slamming the box on a counter, “from every case, all the reports of the tests, and all the surveillance tapes.”

            “We also got coffee,” Eddie follows up, laying his box down gently before removing the Styrofoam cups from atop their precarious position.

            Cisco moves faster than Barry on a good day, grabbing the piping hot liquid out of the blonde detective’s hand.

            “All’s forgiven,” he sips, moving back towards his makeshift bed.

            “Anyway,” Barry continues from where he lain his own box, “we have a lot of work on our hands, so we’ll divide the work and-“

            A shrill ring cuts him off.

            All eyes are on him.

            “Start splitting this up,” Barry fumbles, “I’ll-I’ll take this.”

            Barry has his phone out, heading back out the door to the hallway. He looks at the Caller ID and smiles.

            “Bruce,” he says, “it’s late. Shouldn’t you be in bed?”

            “Could say the same to you,” Bruce replies. His voice is quiet over the speaker, so much so Barry has to strain to hear him.

            “Can’t sleep now,” Barry tells him, “being forced to work over time on this case.”

            “Must be a hard one if it’s got you stumped,” Bruce jokes.

            “I’ll say,” Barry continues, “we have basically no leads and I’m totally useless because all the forensic analysis I’ve run has come up blank.”

            “There’s got to be something,” Bruce says hopefully.

            “Well,” he bites his lip, “the only thing we have is glass. It’s not much, but it’s out of place since all the crime scenes have no shattered surfaces.”

            “Glass?” Bruce asks, louder than before.

            “Yeah,” Barry answers, “it’s real weird-“

            “ _Shit_.”

            “What’s wrong?”

            It’s silent on the other end of the line. Barry runs a hand through his hair, tugging at the back of his scalp. Soon, but not soon enough, Bruce returns.

            “Sorry,” he says, “got distracted and cut myself. I think I need some caffeine if I’m going to get these papers finished for tomorrow.”

            Barry smiles, “You do that. I better get back, too. Don’t tire yourself out.”

            “You, too, Barry.”

            The line disconnects. Barry walks back to the lab on light feet, feeling warm from head to toe.

            The moment passes, however, when the mechanical doors slide open to show the once pristine lab in such disarray. Machines whir, and papers are strewn everywhere. Spaced out, the team is absorbed in their own piles.

            Caitlin looks up from a dossier. She nods her head to the left, “That’s your pile. We gave you the most because you read the fastest.”

            “And out of spite!” Cisco calls from the stretcher.

            “That, too,” she shrugs in agreement.

            Barry rolls his eyes, but acquiesces to their demands. He plops into his workspace, picking up one file. It cracks open, and he gets to work.

* * *

 

            Barry’s eyes have glazed over numerous times, and a tom-tom takes up residence in his head, pounding away. He doesn’t know how long he’s blinked, and he isn’t sure what file he’s on. After the first hour, the words started to blend together until the only ones that stuck out to him were anything involving ‘glass’. He’s already finished his coffee, and has taken to bouncing his leg up and down to keep him energized.

            “Was there anything on the tapes we’re missing?” Joe asks, pacing around the computer screen.

            “No,” Cisco shakes his head, “I’ve run it through a multitude of filters, encryptions… whatever. And I got nothing. Whoever this is _definitely_ has some meta-human abilities.”

            “Dammit,” Joe breathes out, “figured as such.” He whips around to where Caitlin and Eddie have crowded around another table. “You two got anything?”

            “No,” Caitlin answers, “all DNA evidence belonged to the workers. There are no unusual fingerprints or bloodstains, as well as any repetitive. Maybe it’s not a meta… maybe it’s a ghost?”

            Eddie snorts, “What would a ghost want with all these jewels and other expensive junk?”

            “Maybe,” Cisco starts, “times have gotten tough in the ghost world, with the ghoul economy down in the dumps because the spirits of dead monopolists have ruined everything with ghost capitalism. He could have lost his job and decided a life of crime among the living was better than being ghost homeless?”

            Everyone stares at him.

            “Cisco,” Caitlin says, “I’d hit you, but then I’d have to get up.”

            Joe smiles, “Allow me.” He whacks the younger man on the head.

            “Owww!”

            “Thank you Joe,” she beams, “remind me to buy you lunch next time we’re out.”

            Joe nods.

            The group falls quiet soon after that, returning to their work. The night moves on slowly, and with each passing minute their eyelids get heavier.

            Barry’s given up on his files. Instead, he tries to piece together what he has so far. He knows it all makes sense somehow, but unfortunately the criminal took the box cover of the puzzle so he doesn’t even know what the full picture is supposed to be.

            ‘ _Glass?’_

            Bruce’s voice comes to mind, and soon enough it’s all his brain can think about.

            “Wait,” Barry starts, “what about the glass?”

            Everyone gives him varying looks of oddity.

            “What about it?” Eddie asks.

            “Were the machines here able to detect anything about them?” he stands, moving forward.

            Caitlin and Cisco look at each other.

            “No,” Caitlin answers, “we got nothing. No make, model, or even a chemical reading… now that I think about it.”

            Joe lays a hand on Barry’s shoulder, “What are you thinking?”

            “I’m thinking,” Barry says, “that maybe Cisco’s ghost theory isn’t all that crazy.”

            “Boom!” Cisco throws his hands up, “All y’all owe me an apology.”

            “What are you getting at Allen?” Eddie asks, now next to the father and son.

            “Just,” Barry starts, “I’ve been thinking. There’s been nothing on this guy, like, at all. _Except_ for the trail of glass shards we’ve been able to pick up. What if it’s like some sort of ectoplasm?”

            “You’re saying the thief _creates_ the glass?” Eddie asks, incredulously, “must be really cranky if he’s shitting shards all day long.”

            “I doubt he’s making the shards,” Caitlin says, “otherwise they’d still have some sort of genetic tracer.”

            “So he’s carrying the glass with him on his shoes?” Cisco guesses, “boy, didn’t anyone teach him to wipe his feet?”

            “Thankfully not,” Joe says, “now the question is: where is the glass coming from?”

            Barry thinks back, flipping through each crime scene in his head. He goes over all the details he can remember.

            Then lightning strikes.

            “I’ve got it!” Barry exclaims, “In all the crime scenes, what did we find odd about them?”

            “Besides the glass?” Eddie asks, “I don’t know-everything was nice and neat besides some spilt blood?”

            “Exactly!” Barry nods, “There were always glass _shards_ , but never any broken glass or mirrors or _anything!_ ”

            “What are you getting at?” Joe interrupts.

            “I think I know,” Caitlin joins in, “but Barry, do you really think that’s possible, let alone plausible?”

            “What?” Eddie grumbles, “What are you two talking about?”

            “I think the bad guy is using glass, mirrors-any possible _reflective_ surface to travel between locations. Maybe even to grab the stolen goods, since none of the cases were broken into.”

            “That doesn’t explain the security footage,” Joe throws in.

            “It might though,” Cisco adds, “if he does travel through this… mirror world, who’s to say he doesn’t have other mirror-based powers? Maybe he’s also figured out a way to hide his reflection?”

            “So we’re dealing with a Mirror Vampire?” Eddie asks.

            “More like a Mirror Master,” Caitlin smirks.

            Cisco frowns at her, “That’s my job!”

            “Doesn’t matter,” Barry says, heading towards his costume, “now that we finally figured _something_ out about this guy, we might as well try and finish the job.” He suits up in seconds.

            “What do you want us to do?” Caitlin asks.

            “See if you can find a way to track this Mirror Master using our shard samples,” Barry starts to leave, “and maybe find a connection between the robberies-see if we can find out where his next target might be.”

            “We’re on it,” Joe nods.

            Barry jogs out of STAR Labs, deciding he might take some time, let the others get started on their tasks so he isn’t running around, wasting energy.

            He’s about to start on a slow run when he notices a sleek, black object wedged into the walls of the pristine white of STAR Labs.

            Barry moves closer, hand outstretched. His fingers run along the smooth edges of the bat-shaped weapon. He circles it, eyes transfixed on the symbol of Gotham’s vigilante.

            He’s surprised when he sees the yellow post-it stuck on its back.

            Barry pulls off the message, speed-reading the short sentence. He swivels his head around, making sure he’s not being watched. When he’s sure, he turns back to the bat boomerang. He dislodges it from its resting place, dropping the note.

            He speeds off not too soon after.

            The yellow note shines bright on the dark asphalt:

            ‘ _Police Station. Roof. Now.’_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I please?  
> Kudos if you can and shoot me a comment to tell me how much you loved it!


	9. Break Through

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barry teams up with Batman (willingly) for the first time, only for it to be cut short unexpectedly. Now trapped with no help, how can Barry break himself out? Meanwhile, Bruce learns a few things as well as continues the hunt for the Mirror Master!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everybody! Thank you for being patient, I think you'll really like this chapter! I took my time because I really wanted to make sure I made all the right choices plus I had a lot going on I needed to focus on (still do but writing calms me).
> 
> Anyway, I would like to dedicate this to a very special place that just closed down: The Lyric Diner. This was a diner near my college that closed down for some reason, but it was very near and dear to my heart and the hearts of my friends as this was our "Central Perk". It had great food at great prices... but now no more.
> 
> Please, enjoy in its memory.

            The air crackles, tiny sparks flying out of Barry’s body as he skids to a halt above the Central City Police Department. He turns around, eyes darting everywhere. A loud cough draws his attention to the shadows.

            Out of the shadows, the Batman emerges.

            “What happened?” Barry asks without thought. His eyes first landed on a huge cut across his chest, right through the bat. Given more time, he notices tinier scratches littered across his body.

            “Sam Scudder happened.”

            Barry steps closer, hand reaching out tentatively. He touches Batman’s chest only slightly, but it was still enough pressure to draw a hiss from the Dark Knight.

            “You should get that treated,” Barry says, “this Scudder guy can wait.”

            “I’ve dealt with worse,” Batman turns, “Besides, if we want any chance of catching your mirror master, we need to act now.”

            “We?” Barry smiles, “I thought you said to let you handle your villains.”

            Batman smirks back at Barry: “He’s not one of mine.”

            “So you’re helping us out now?” Barry asks, “What? Is that just you being kind?”

            “Maybe I got bored.”

            Barry rolls his eyes, but moves even closer, “Whatever. What do you know?”

            Batman pulls out a tablet device from his utility belt, unfolding it as if it was paper. He pulls up an image of a young man in his 20’s. He’s got scraggly, dirty blonde hair, and mossy green eyes. He’s scowling, which makes sense given the picture Batman pulled up was a mugshot.

            “Sam Scudder, no family, was in the system until he turned 18. Petty theft, public intoxication, the list is full of small misdemeanors. Recently, he had steady employment over in a factory where they manufacture mirrors: he was an inspector. But watch what happens… here.”

            He slides his finger over the screen, bringing up security footage. Scudder has a clipboard in hand and moves throughout the storage room where he not only inspects the mirrors for any defects and cracks, but also for his reflection. That’s when Barry hears a familiar sound.

            “The particle accelerator,” Barry whispers.

            Scudder turns, and the video shows a wave cutting across the room. It hits Scudder, sending him flying back towards a row of mirrors. But instead of crashing into them, he just seems to… disappear.

            “Ever since then he’s been reported as missing,” Batman closes the tablet, “until now. I checked out his old place of work-abandoned, but still filled with mirrors. I concluded that was his base of operations-“

            “And got a little ahead of yourself, didn’t you?” Barry smirks.

            Batman shoots him a flat look.

            “Anyway,” Batman continues, “he can travel through mirrors, but the full extent of his abilities allows him to control and shape glass and similar objects.”

            Barry breathes, “This just got harder.”

            Batman is about to say something when Barry hears a beep in his ear. He holds a finger up to Gotham’s vigilante and turns, pressing his earpiece with his other finger.

            “Got anything?”

            “We think we know where his next hit is,” Joe speaks over the comm link, “It seems he’s been going in a circle, and the next place looks like a jewelry show on 5th and Lampert.”

            “Got it, we’re on our way.”

            “We?”

            “Bye!” Barry shuts off the link. He turns back towards Batman, “So do you need a lift or-“

            The vigilante is already gone. Barry lets his shoulders hang.

            “Not like he’ll show up _before_ me.”

            With that, he rolls his neck and pops out his back. Then, he runs towards his next location.

* * *

             The street is dead. The lampposts glow uncharacteristically dim along the pavement. Nothing moves through the street, and even the citizens of the City That Doesn’t Sleep find the time to prove their slogan wrong. The only sound that stirs up is when Barry screeches to a halt outside the jewelry store. He spies no broken glass, but is not deterred in the slightest.

            He strides forward, beginning to vibrate his molecules so by the time he reached the door he slides right through it to the other side.

            “I’m in,” Barry whispers into the comm link, “no sign of Mirror Master… or Batman.”

            “Batman?” It’s Caitlin’s voice now, “Why would he be helping us?”

            Barry smirks, “Maybe it’s because of my charm?”

            “Too bad it only works on men from Gotham,” Cisco jokes.

            “At least _his_ works on someone,” Caitlin claps back at Cisco. Barry hears a scoff on the other end of the line and has to stifle his laugh.

            Too bad in the next second, there is nothing to laugh about.

            Barry is punched from behind, pushing him forwards and onto the floor. He groans, pushing himself up. He looks behind him, only to see… a hand: protruding out the side of a small mirror. But as soon as it appeared, it sinks back into the mirror as if the glass were water. He can see the small ripples it leaves after its gone.

            “He’s here,” Barry grits into the communicator, “but ‘here’ is also very subjective right now.”

            Barry gets up fully, turning around in a small circle, eyes catching every reflection in case of another surprise attack.

            “Well, well, well, aren’t I a lucky one?” a voice warbles out from seemingly nowhere, yet it fills the entire room. A chill runs up Barry’s back, but he does not let it show. “I was wonderin’ when you’d show your ugly mug,” the voice continues, “I thought I might haf’ ta up my game to get you ta visit.”

            “Sam Scudder,” Barry says, “this is your only warning: turn yourself in, or prepare for me to do my worst.”

            “I’d really like to see you try, Flash,” the voice taunts. Barry turns. Behind him, he can see Scudder’s face where his should be. He reacts, throwing his fist out in a quick jab. However, the second it makes contact, the glass returns to his hard state, and all Barry’s punch did was earned him around seven years bad luck. He retracts his hand, shaking it slightly.

            “Okay,” Barry concedes, “I might have to up my worst.”

            “Maybe we can compare?” Scudder laughs, “you’ve shown me yours, so why don’t I show ya mine?”

            The mirror to Barry’s right shatters, only the glass does not fly everywhere. They stay, clumped, but poised for attack. Like bees, they swarm towards Barry. He dodges them, barely missing the sharp glass by breathes. The only casualty is the lightning-bolt where his right ear was.

            He’s been forced into radio silence.

            “Crap,” he whispers, on the floor.

            Before he can prepare, more shards hurl themselves at Barry. Light on his feet, he dodges every blow Scudder sends his way.

            “Stay still!” Scudder growls, upper-body caught in a large mirror like an over-blown snapshot.

            He’s getting tired, but luckily for Barry Scudder is running out of glass to send his way. He dodges another round of the shrapnel when he sees a familiar cape.

            “What took you so long?” he chides, seeing Batman make a full appearance. He surprises Scudder, slipping a hand into the surface of the mirror and pulling him out. Scudder hangs, his torso now tangible. He’s being held up only by Batman’s fist and righteous fury.

            “You’re still alive?” Scudder curses, “How hard is it to just die?”

            “Harder than this,” Batman smirks, giving him a quick jab to the face, “Sam Scudder, you’re under arrest.”

            Sam does nothing at first, letting the blood ooze out of his nose. But then… he squints, and smiles.

            Out of the corner of Barry’s eyes, he can see one of the largest shards of glass from the earlier assault rise. In seconds it pushes forward. Its target: Gotham’s Dark Knight.

            “Look out,” Barry warns, diving forward. He beats the shard to its destination, pushing Batman out of the way, releasing his hold on Scudder. But Barry, himself, had no time to dodge the attack. It slices his back, clean through. Barry winces, the cut stinging.

            The seconds seem to go slower after that. With nothing holding onto Scudder he proceeds to sink back into the Mirror World. However, he does not leave without a parting gift. Only this one is very different from his other heists: what he takes much… larger.

            “No!” Batman yells, jumping up and running towards the mirror. When he gets there, he bangs into the cold surface it originally was. On the other side of the glass, Scudder stares back at him, as well does another pair of eyes.

            Barry, caught in a choke-hold, looks on with a wide stare. The image of the two is clear for a beat, until they slowly start to dissolve. In their place, Batman can only see his reflection staring back: staring in failure and disappointment.

            He crushes his fist against the mirror and curses low under his breath.

            He rests his forehead against the glass, eyes closed. He imagines the mirror to be cool to the touch, Kevlar and spandex masking the actual sensation. He lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

            Batman pushes back, moving away from the mirror. He takes in the damage of the shop, the unfortunate scene that the owners will have to face tomorrow. He starts to slink his way towards the exit when his boot steps on something.

            He lifts his foot, staring at the earpiece Barry lost earlier. Wires stick out of the end of it. With gloved hand, Batman picks it up. He can make out a small buzzing sound coming from the decorative bolt.

            “Hmm,” Batman thinks, pulling out his small tablet once again. He clicks on an app, pulling up small measuring device. He holds the lightning bolt up towards the camera, and a small green laser scans the piece of costume. Numbers flash on the screen, and Batman knows what he needs.

            He puts the device away and presses a finger to his ear.

            “Switch frequencies to 2.453 Giga-Hertz.”

            There’s static, but what follows is less preferable.

            “Barry!” Joe yells, “Barry! Come in, copy, something! Do I have to send a squad car in?”         

            “Not necessary,” Batman answers, “Scudder’s long gone by now.”

            It’s silent on the other end of the line.

            “You’re not Barry,” Cisco speaks.

            “Observant,” Batman makes his way out the way he came. He shoots up towards the roof.

            “Wait,” Caitlin takes over, “Is this… Batman?”

            “Yes-“

            “How’re you talking to us right now?” Cisco cuts in.

            “I found what frequency you used to communicate through Barry’s earpiece,” Batman tells them, “and I tuned myself to it as well.”

            “Well if you’re talking to us?” Eddie starts, “why isn’t Barry?”

            “He…” Batman pauses, “He’s gone. Scudder took him.”

            “Scudder?” Cisco asks, “Who is he? And where did he take Barry?”

            “Sam Scudder, your… _Mirror Master_ ,” Batman grouses, “and where… I don’t know. He’s somewhere in that ‘mirror world’ of his.”

            “We’ve got to get him out!” Caitlin says.

            “If you have any ideas,” Batman fires another grappling hook into the night, “I’m listening.”

* * *

             Barry drops to the cold surface with a small thud. He shudders, breath visible in front of him. His back stings, and he realizes the cut is still there. He looks up at where Sam Scudder stands, somehow towering over him.

            “Where,” Barry wheezes, “Where are we?”

            “We’re in my world now, Flash, baby,” Scudder smiles, hands thrown out to his sides. Barry swivels around, taking in his surroundings.

            It’s dark: the only light coming from stars that hang around the two. When Barry looks closer, however, he notices they aren’t stars, but floating mirrors. In fact, he’s standing on a floating panel of glass. He looks down and sees a nothing but the inky abyss beneath him.

            “What the-?”

            “Frightening, isn’t it?” Scudder asks, “Should be. Fall down that and… well, I don’t know what will happen. I dropped a pen down there and I never saw _that_ again.”

            Barry struggles to get up, arms buckling. He manages to get himself up after a time, and breaks into a run. Only, he slips and skids, sliding towards the edge. Luckily, he stops himself in time.

            “Not so fast now are we?” Scudder mocks, “What a shame…”

            “What did you do?” Barry asks, pulling himself away from the edge.

            “I did nothing,” Scudder smiles, “this place is different than the real world, and messes with your powers. It took me months to master this land and you don’t have that time. So, I guess this means… you’re stuck here.” He walks backwards into a panel of glass, passing through it back into the real world.

            “No,” Barry yells, eyes widening, “No! NO!” He struggles to make his way over. He falls on the glass, fists pounding on the panel. Scudder laughs from his side.

            “Don’t worry, Flash,” he tells him, “Soon it’ll all be over… and you’ll just become a reflection of yourself. So long!” He walks away from sight.

            Barry continues to bang his fists on the panel, even as there is no one to see him. He screams, and it echoes across the vast space. No one hears him. 

* * *

 

            _“Got it, we’re on our way!”_

_Barry’s voice fades out as he jumps off the roof of the police building, firing his grappling hook onto the next ledge and swinging towards the next heist. He was able to catch most of it, and decided to take off while he could._

_He knew what would have happened if he stayed. He would have travelled with Barry. Barry would have had to carry him._

_Bruce thinks he wouldn’t have been able to control himself if he got that close._

            “I’m such an idiot.”

            “What was that?”

            Eddie’s voice crackles to life over Batman’s comm. He opted to stay on the line with Batman while Cisco and Caitlin went to work on something to stop Mirror Master. Joe went along to offer any help he could… and to get his mind off of things.

            “Nothing,” Batman sighs, “Just-just how’s the progress going over there?”

            “It’s getting there,” Eddie murmurs, “Cisco is still trying to tack down the exact frequency Scudder uses to travel through the mirrors. Once we get that figured out everything will be easier and Barry will be out before you know it!”

            “I hope…”

            Eddie quirks a brow: “You okay?”

            Bruce remains silent on the other end of the line.

            Eddie sighs, “He’s alright. Barry’s been through worse, and he always seems to make it out better than before.”

            “He wouldn’t even be in this situation if I didn’t try to do everything by myself,” Bruce mutters.

            “Oh no, you are not doing this.”

            Bruce hums, curious.

            Eddie continues, “Moping, thinking what you could have done better, and whining ain’t gonna get Barry out of this. Even if you two did show up together, who’s to say you both wouldn’t have been trapped, together? It’s Scudder’s fault, and all we can do is beat him and get our Barry back.”

            Bruce quirks a smile at the words of encouragement.

            “You seem to be fond of him,” Bruce observes.

            “Well, uh,” Eddie falters, “he kinda grows on you, you know?”

            “More than you think,” Bruce agrees quickly.

            Now it’s Eddie’s turn to hum.

            “What?” Bruce asks.

            “Sounds to me like somebody,” Eddie drags out, “has a crush.”

            “What?” Bruce coughs, blushing, “I don’t have a crush on Ba-Flash.”

            “Oh please,” Eddie waves off, “everyone gets it: hell, even I thought I was in love with the doe-eyed bastard for a day. He just has that way about him that you can’t help but like-believe me, I’ve tried.”

            “He does have a… certain quality about him,” Bruce chooses his words carefully.

            “I mean if we’re being honest, Barry has one of the biggest crushes on _you_.”

            Bruce cocks his head to the side, “Does he now?”

            “He’s gonna kill me for this,” Eddie chuckles, “but ever since you’ve shown up it’s been ‘Batman this’ and ‘Batman that’. The only times when he isn’t talking about your ‘stupid chiseled face’, he’s mooning over your buddy Bruce Wayne.”

            “ _Mooning_?” Bruce smirks.

            “Head over heels,” Eddie continues, “One day I was able to count the amount of times he sighed _wistfully_ at his phone, waiting for his text. I got to twenty before I couldn’t take it anymore. So I texted him myself just to get him to stop… _pining_ ; he shot me the dirtiest look. He’s got it _bad_. I mean, I’d hate to imagine what he would have been like if he actually ended up dating Iris.”

            “Iris?” Batman’s quirked lips fall.

            “Joe’s daughter, my ex-fiancée, kind of a sore subject,” Eddie lists, “and also Barry’s wife, according to a future newspaper.”

            Bruce’s breath gets caught in his throat.

            “Wife?” he chokes out, “Kind of… _hard_ … to be dating a man when you know about that, right?”

            “It should be,” Eddie agrees, “but I haven’t seen him mention Iris in a month. Honestly, it’s kind of creepy. Even when I was dating her, he would still have this weird habit of keeping tabs on her. Was one of the reasons he had to break up with a girl, even. But with Wayne in the picture… it’s like she doesn’t exist!”

            “So you’d say he’s completely over her?” Bruce asks, feigning interest.

            “I don’t know,” Eddie sighs, “but to me, it looks like Barry has moved on-wait… why are you interested?”

            Bruce blushes harder under his cowl: “Like you said, Bruce Wayne is my… ‘buddy’… and employer… only fair I make sure he’s safe in any way, shape, or form.”

            Eddie’s about to question further when he hears a sound coming from the lab. “Everything alright in there?” he shouts.

            “We’re fine!” Cisco pops his head in, “We might have gone overboard with the test _buuuutttt_ … we figured it out! We’ll have the weapon up and running in thirty minutes!” He pops back into the room with the unfinished blaster.

            “Our end is almost set up,” Eddie speaks back into the comm link, “ you think you can find a way to wait?”

            Bruce cracks his knuckles, looking down from his perch on a roof. Below him is the vast expanse of the abandoned mirror factory, fallen into decay in such a short amount of time.

            “I think I have an idea…” 

* * *

 

            It’s cold… he’s cold…

            He thinks he’s cold… he isn’t sure what cold _is_ anymore.

            It’s only been seconds… or maybe hours…

            ‘ _I could have been in here for years for all I know,’_ Barry thinks, _‘if I knew anything to begin with… like my name._ ’

            He remembers he had to do something important. Honestly, to him, it’s all a blur after he walked away from that mirror. He’s been shuffling along the glass path, keeping towards the middle so as not to fall. Only pure instinct keeps him from the edges, he’s already forgotten what the danger of falling is.

            He’s huddled in on himself, his arms rubbing up and down the spandex as he shuffles slowly down further into the mirror world.

            Barry keeps his head down, eyes focused only on putting his one foot in front of the other. He’s so intent on staring at the boots that he doesn’t see the floating mirror when he bangs into it.

            “Oof,” he breathes, falling on his butt. He looks up at the jagged shard, transfixed. Barry gets up slowly, rubbing a semblance of warmth into his behind, as he looks deeper into the mirror.

            Inside the mirror he can see a man standing in front of him. He’s familiar, Barry recognizing the dark skin and well-trimmed beard and the brown eyes that are usually staring at him in disbelief or annoyance. Granted, when Barry tries to conjure an identity all he gets is a suit and yelling. In front of him now he looks calm and… naked.

            “David,” Barry can hear another person say, distorted in this dimension, “David, come back to bed. I think I’m ready for a fourth go…”

            The man turns back, and Barry can get a glimpse of a smaller, lighter, leaner man lounging on a bed: the covers barely covering him, leaving little to the imagination.

            “Coming… heh,” the man lilts, walking back.

            Thankfully, the mirror starts to pull away before Barry can see below the man’s waist.

            Barry continues moving forward, shuffling along yet again.

            The path continues to twist and turn. Sometimes Barry trips and stumbles, joints freezing up. It takes him quite some time before Barry could get back up again move forward.

            He has no set destination in mind. His body moves without thought. It’s as if some force is pulling him down further and further into this mystery world, like a siren call, and all he can do is follow.

            It’s another long time before he comes across another mirror. He passes by before something catches his eye. He walks back, looking directly into the mirror.

            On the other side is a man beaten down by life. His eyes are bloodshot, and it seems as if his face has fallen into a permanent straight line. He’s in a bland beige combo that blends in perfectly with the grayish walls. Water drips down his face, as if Barry caught him mid-splash.

            He feels something stirring inside of him. Sadness… Hurt… a cocktail of depressing emotions. Barry reaches out to touch the glass just as it starts to pass him by.

            Even as it’s moving Barry can hear the warbled “Allen! Finished or not, your time is up!”

            As soon as the window back into his world clears, the feelings he felt wash away as easily as grime under a faucet. He tries to reclaim what he felt, but they have scattered to the wind. And then he thinks nothing of it, and continues walking.

            Sometimes he comes across cracks in the past, and takes even more times walking across. Other times the cracks have won through, and the walking the path becomes a dangerous game of hopscotch.

            He comes across a large divide with no other way to turn. There’s a nice sized glass shard floating in the middle, something he can jump to. He feels dread claw up his throat, but knows there’s no other way across. He steps back a few before starting up a slow jog. After building some momentum, he throws himself across to the perch.

            It wasn’t enough for a good landing, and he hits the edge of the shard with his thighs. He can feel the cut greet the cold air, and how the blood starts to ooze downwards.

            He scrabbles hard, but manages to pull himself up fully. Barry’s breathing hard, and he has to take a break. He flips himself over, the ice glass chilling the cut from earlier. It’s a mystery to him how he got it.

            Each breath is pained and tired.

            However, he’s too busy focusing on the pain that he almost misses when a mirror floats itself above him, and he can peek in.

            From where Barry is laying, he is able to spy on a group of friends enjoying a nice meal. It’s a diverse crowd. A banner hangs above them saying ‘Good Luck, Jimmy!’. Jimmy must be the tall, lean black man with the banner around his shoulders. It’s tacky, but it’s not likely he’s wearing it out of choice. Next to him is a lighter skin man, laughing at something the man of the hour said. His glasses are close to slipping off of his nose, and his hair is attempting to stay tame for the day’s events. Across from this man is a woman, alabaster with raven hair pulled tight in a bun. She smirks slightly, red lipstick gleaming.

            But it’s not any them he ends up focusing on. Instead his eyes catch sight of a beautiful woman with ebony skin. She’s smiling, her brown eyes bright with a joy Barry has never seen associated with her. Her hair falls in waves, and Barry lifts a hand up as if he could touch.

            “Iris, I got to say you throw perfect parties,” the woman says, raising a glass.

            “I seem to have a knack for it,” she agrees, “like you have one for finding trouble.”

            The men laugh boisterously while all the woman can do is roll her eyes: “Nice one. Just for that, you’re getting my coffee tomorrow.”

            Iris shrugs, “Worth it.”

            The mirror leaves, the echoes of laughter still haunting Barry from his place on the glass shard.

            He retracts his hand, touching at his eye where it started to leak.

            ‘ _Why am I crying?’_ he thinks, ‘ _And why do I feel like… smiling?_ ’

* * *

 

            The factory is creepier than he remembers. There’s a dread that hangs in the air that wasn’t there the first time he journeyed down the row of abandoned mirrors. He passes over the shards left over from when Scudder caught him going through his things.

            “Where are you now,” Batman mutters to himself.

            He keeps moving, eyes shifting from reflection to reflection. He keeps an eye out for Scudder. He hopes to find Barry.

            “Why can’t you leave me alone?”

            Scudder jumps out from one mirror, and Batman leans back just in time for him to fly into the next mirror.

            “Justice never rests, Scudder,” Batman scolds.

            He scoffs, “You’d think you’d get the hint after I sent your little buddy to his doom in here!”

            Batman reacts. He punches the mirror Scudder was in, only to shatter it.

            “You’ll have to do better than that!”

            The shards stop their descent, then fly forward to attack Batman. He covers his face, but the glass still cuts through his suit and bites into his skin.

            “Maybe I won’t send you in here,” Scudder’s voice echoes, “maybe I’ll just make some nice Bat-chunks!”

            The row of mirrors shatter one by one, the large shards being brought towards the ceiling. They form a storm of glass, swarming around each other like wasps. Once they’ve gathered, they start to descend.

            Batman’s eyes widen before he turns and runs. He can hear the shards as they explode against the concrete of the floor. He can feel his cape tatter behind him, and releases it from his shoulders. He sees a divide between two mirrors and dives behind it, knocking the mirror over onto him for protection.

            “Are you guys done yet?” Batman speaks into his ear.

            “We’re on our way,” Caitlin says, “keep him busy!”

            A giant shard slices right through the frame and in front of him. He stares at his reflection.

            “Easier said then done.”

 

* * *

 

            He’s crawling now. His hands have been torn to shreds by the small crystals that dust the floor. His legs failed him a long time ago.

            Every so often he collapses, his limbs too tired to carry him; his body too heavy to be supported. But Barry still finds a way to get back up.

            This time, however, he can’t so much as lift a finger.

            His breathing is ragged, chest expanding as much as it can even if it feels like he’s breathing in nothing. His mind is full of blurs. Everything seems to be twisted, distorted, blurred, and he can’t tell a real thought from another. Facts escape him, and he can’t remember a time when he wasn’t trapped within this mirror prison.

            “Can’t… stop…” he gets out, trying to lift himself up. He slips and falls hard, his chin catching on some of the glass dust. Blood pools and drips onto the surface beneath him.

            He tries to conjure up to mind something, anything to keep him moving forward.

            ‘ _There’s something I should be doing_ ,’ he thinks, ‘ _There are people who are worried for me_.’ Their faces seem so close, but every time he tries to reach for them they run away.

            He turns over on his side, starting to lose focus. The shards twinkle and mesmerize him, and he can’t help but get lost in their glow. Barry starts to feel woozy and lighter, as if he is starting to become with the world.

            ‘ _The lights sure are pretty_ ,’ he thinks, ‘ _And… sparkly._ ’

            The mirrors do twinkle from an unexplained light source. However, the unnatural glow is not what draws his attention. It’s what’s on the other side of one of the mirrors. As if being called, the mirror flies closer until it is right in front of Barry.

            He stares at what’s catching the light. On the outside, the morning sun starts to rise, and some of the light shines into the mussed hotel room. A stray beam hits an object on the dresser, and glows.

            ‘ _Looks familiar…_ ’

_Barry and Bruce walk hand in hand down a grassy path. They laugh, caught up in each other. They have no care for the world around. Unfortunately, this leads to Barry not seeing the hole in the ground before it’s too late._

_“Woah!”_

_Barry starts to fall. Bruce rushes to grab him, only to be swept up in the motion. He grips hard at Barry’s waist while they tumble._

_They stop soon enough, Barry resting on top of Bruce’s solid chest. He picks his head up and looks at Bruce. Bruce has to crane his neck up a bit to match Barry’s stare. It only takes a couple of seconds before they start laughing once again._

_“I could get used to this position…” Barry trails, licking his lips with hooded eyes._

_“I’m kind of fond of it myself,” Bruce follows Barry’s tongue with his eyes. He leans up to meet Barry’s head where it started moving. Their lips touch. They kiss slowly, content at a lazy pace. Bruce pulls away first, bringing one hand up to run a thumb across Barry’s cheek. But then his eyes move towards his wrist and he cocks his brows._

_Barry follows his gaze, “What’s wrong?”_

_“I think my watch broke,” Bruce puts his wrist in between them. Barry can see the cracked face, where the hands have stopped at exactly 4:05. He can see some of the springs trying to escape, and cogs that have stopped working._

_“Oh, no,” Barry says, “I’m so sorry… that must have been expensive-“_

_“Don’t,” Bruce moves his hand so his index finger covers Barry’s lips, “you’re okay, that’s all that matters. A watch is a watch. Besides I don’t really use it, I have a phone. It was a decorative piece.”_

_Barry laughs against the finger before kissing it._

_“If that’s all,” Barry starts to get up, “we might as well move on before we break anything else.” He extends a hand for Bruce, and he pulls his boyfriend up with one swift motion. Their hands stay connected._

_“Lead the way,” Bruce sidles closer, kissing Barry on the cheek. Barry, warmer than ever before, drags him forward._

            Barry’s eyes lighten considerably the longer he focuses on the watch. For the first time since he’s entered the mirror world he feels warmth in his chest that he can’t explain.

            “Bruce?”

            He looks up, trying to get a glimpse of the rest of the room, to see if he might be inside. The room looks lived in, but his boyfriend is nowhere to be seen.

            “…Bruce?”

* * *

 

            “Batman!”

            Scudder steps out of a mirror, glass shards flying around him like sentinels. He’s lost track of the Dark Knight, his abilities only stretching so far. Around him are the small remains of his attack. He spies from the corner of his eye the tattered remains of the hero’s cape: mirror fragments pinning it against the floor.

            “Come on, hero,” Scudder calls, “you can’t hide forever!”

            “Who says I’m trying to?”

            To his right, Batman jumps out from seemingly nowhere. He tosses six bat-a-rangs, shattering his guards. With nothing stopping him, Batman hits him with an uppercut that sends Scudder flying.

            “I’d like to see you try that again?” Scudder smiles while slamming his hand on the mirror to his right.

            Nothing happens.

            He looks at the mirror, only to see there’s nothing there.

            “Your powers only work when there’s mirrors around you,” Batman steps forward, smashing the mirror Scudder originally jumped out of, “And we took care of all those.”

            Scudder’s face falls into anger.

            “Who do you think you are?” he backs up, his hands flailing behind him, “Sitting high up on your perch? Judging everybody? Judging me?”

            “I won’t be judging you,” Batman tells him, “that’s up to the courts-“

            “They’ve already had their say!” Scudder yells, “Them! Society! My parents! All of them just tossed me to the side like I’m garbage! Like I’mma nothin’! I ain’t a nothin’! I don’t care what any of them has ta’ say, I’m-I’m better than them all! I have _powers!_ I was _chosen_!”

            “Get over yourself,” Batman tells him, “You weren’t chosen for anything. There is no grand design where somehow your life is better than anyone else’s. The only people who get to choose what happens to them are themselves. You have powers and you chose to use them for crime. You’re not garbage, but you’re a criminal.”

            Batman stares down at Scudder. His speech only made more powerful with the intent behind his lensed cowl. Scudder shudders, unable to take it anymore. He pushes himself up and breaks into a sprint in the opposite direction.

            “You’ll never get me!” he says, “I’ll show you!” He turns the corner.

            Batman curses, but follows nevertheless. He turns the corner to see nothing. He has one hand on his belt, ready to react, as he slowly steps further into the room.

            A laugh starts to echo, until it fills the entire room. Batman is unnerved a tad, but he doesn’t let it show.

            He steps around another corner to see Scudder and immediately throws another bat-a-rang. It hits, only for it to immediately fall on the ground.

            “What?” Batman growls.

            “Surprised?” Scudder laughs, “I was saving this just in case I needed to escape. Before the place got shut down they were working on building a shatter-proof mirror. Lucky for me they left the thing here when they ran out of money! You’ll never get me out of here!”

            Batman grits his teeth and advances. He reaches the place where the mirror hangs and begins to punch it.

            “What are you doing?” Scudder asks.

            “I’m going to get you out of there,” Batman grits, fist banging against the glass. The sound of his fists reverberates in the large room.

            “You can’t do anything!” Scudder tells him, “Just give up already!”

            “I’m not giving up,” Batman says, “I’m not stopping until you are out of this mirror. I’m not stopping until you are put away. I’m not stopping until you _bring the Flash back!”_

            His words echo not only in the factory, but pass through the barrier and into the Mirror World. It fills the empty space, bouncing off mirror after mirror until finally hitting a non-reflective surface.

            ‘ _bring… the Flash… back_ …’

            Barry lifts his head. “Bruce…?”

            The warmth from before fills him again. He even starts to tingle. Soon enough he realizes the tingling doesn’t come from memory, but from realizing his body was starting to vibrate.

            He pulls himself up; the faster he vibrates the easier it is to move. With each movement he cuts through the cold that surrounded him inside and out.

            Barry looks out and up. He sees a man standing far away, his back to Barry’s. His thoughts are slowly returning to him, and he’s remembering more and more about himself, but he knows immediately that he needs to get to _that man_.

            He takes a few steps back, the stretch of mirror he’s standing on now solid under his feet. In an instant he breaks into a sprint at his usual speed. Barry launches himself from the edge of the path and jumps from mirror to mirror. With each push off the floating glass he builds momentum until, finally, the distance between him and the man has lessened in seconds. One final push sends a glass shard floating backwards, but propels Barry right at the man. He lets out a strong battlecry.

            Batman stops punching when he sees Scudder turn in his place. But soon enough he has to move back when the mirror shatters. He covers his face with his arms. When he puts them down, he notices two figures on the ground in front of him.

            Barry groans, and as much as Batman wants to go to him, Scudder starts to get back up.

            “Let’s put an end to this,” Batman says. He moves forward and roundhouse kicks Scudder in the face. The thief flies backwards, slamming his head on the ground. His nose leaks blood, and there’s a huge bruise building on his face. But, finally, he is out cold.

            Bruce turns back to Barry, rushing towards the twitching hero. He kneels down next to him, pulling Barry onto his knees.

            “Flash… Barry! Barry, are you okay? You with me?” Bruce asks, running his hand over Barry’s face to check for injuries. The cuts he gained in the mirror realm have already finished healing, so nothing mars the speedster’s smooth skin.

            Barry looks up at Bruce with unfocused eyes. He reaches a hand out and lays it on Bruce’s cheek. Under the cowl, Bruce blushes once again.

            “You-y’re chisl’d… know that?”

            The hand falls, Barry passing out. His body, too tired from the adventure in the Mirror World.

            “I think they’re in here.”

            Bruce can hear voices, familiar ones, from over the intercom. He smiles, and presses a small kiss to Barry’s forehead.

            He exits just as the others make their way into the room.

            “Barry!” Caitlin yells running towards her friend.

            “Aww,” Cisco groans, “So we did all this work for nothing? I wanted to see the Mirror World!”

            Joe slaps him over the head. “Be glad we didn’t. Now go put that collar on Scudder so we don’t have him escaping on us.”

            “Oww,” Cisco groans, “Alright, already.”

            Batman takes one last look at the scene before he fully leaves, shooting up into the early morning sky.

* * *

            “So you really remember nothing about the Mirror World?”

            Barry rolls his eyes from his place on the examining table. It’s been a solid twenty-four hours since Barry’s been back, and he’s only been conscious for six of those hours. Travelling between worlds takes a lot out of a guy.

            “Again, Cisco,” Barry sighs, “I don’t really remember much. I remember Scudder dropping me in there, and then the next thing I know I’m waking up in STAR Labs.” There’s more he’s not telling them, but even thinking about the watch brings on a blush.

            “Well, it doesn’t look like there is any physical damage,” Caitlin finishes her check-up, “the only thing it did was affect your memory.”

            “You can’t even tell us what it _looked_ like?” Cisco pleads.

            Barry tries to conjure the image into his head. “All I can think of is how… cold it was. Like, ice chilling in my veins. It really screwed with my head, dude.” Barry gets up, “Why don’t you ask Scudder?”

            “Can’t,” Cisco huffs, “we had to put him in a plastic cell with opaque walls until we better understand his power. I don’t want him jumping into the reflection he sees in my eyeball!”

            “Fair enough,” Barry starts to leave, “If I remember anything else, I’ll let you know.”

            “Where you going?” Cisco calls.

            “Plans,” Barry waves off, “I’ll see you guys later!”

            He doesn’t remember much about the place, with that he’s being honest. But when he was unconscious, some things started flashing through his mind like visions. One stuck out in particular, and when he thinks about it he feels guilty. With everything as of late, with Bruce and all these new villains showing up, he hasn’t found the time to do what he would.

            But he’s gonna fix that today.

            “I’m glad you could make it,” Barry greets Bruce outside the building.

            “It was bound to happen someday,” Bruce shrugs, “glad you’re even doing this. I usually don’t get this far.”

            Barry shoves at him, “Shut up.”

            They step through the doors and make their way inside. It takes awhile, all the necessary steps longer when it’s two people rather than one.

            After a wait, they make it to the room. They sit on one side of the plexiglass, and watch as another man steps out from behind a door as well. He catches a glimpse of Barry and smiles, only for it to fall slightly when he sees Bruce. The man makes his way over to the two of them.

            At the same time, father and son pick up the telephone.

            “Hi Dad,” Barry greets, “Sorry it’s been awhile.”

            “It’s okay, son,” Henry returns, “I understand how busy you’re life has gotten as of late.”

            “You only know the half of it…” Barry trails off, looking at Bruce. Henry joins him.

            “Are you going to introduce me to your friend?” Henry raises a brow.

            Barry blushes, but nevertheless picks up their joined hands from below the counter. He places them on the surface for his father to see.

             “I’d like you to meet Bruce, Bruce Wayne,” Barry smiles, “my boyfriend.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You like? Kudos and comment liberally, please, I love hearing your feedback!


	10. Trust Fund

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Work has been rather slow for the police, which is good because Barry has to deal with the revelation of what his friends and family truly think of Bruce. But is the slow workload really a good thing? Does it show that the city is low on crime... or is there something more sinister behind it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Howdy folks! We finally hit double digits!  
> So I am actually really proud of this chapter and I feel really good about it.  
> I know it's been awhile but I had really good reasons:  
> a) This month has been literal Hell because the semester was wrapping up and I had just finished all my finals the day before.  
> b) I was stuck for a time on a certain part and took a break by writing some Supernatural fics, but then I decided to scrap what I originally wrote and start fresh.  
> I hope you enjoy!  
> (also thoughts about the s2 finale at end)

            “Joe, you got a sec?”

            The detective looks up from his screen, where his son and co-worker Barry waits. He has two cups of coffee in hand and a stack of files plastered to his chest. Joe takes a quick look around the station, at dawdling officers who would be better of twiddling their thumbs instead of being there. He looks back to Barry.

            “I’m pretty sure I got an hour,” he smiles, taking a coffee, “what’s up?”

            “I want you to look over the results from that recent break in at Mercury.”

            Joe quirks a brow: “Singh let you use the lab for that?”

            “What do you mean?” Barry frowns.

            “Just asking,” Joe takes a sip of the coffee, “Didn’t exactly seem like he was too keen on looking into it.” And by that Joe meant he was adamant. The detective was lucky to keep a few reports before Singh took the case file and shredded everything. Called the break-in ‘a simple misunderstanding’ before announcing his plan to reduce hours.

            “Well then, let’s not bother him about this,” Barry smiles, “wouldn’t want him angry with me.”

            “Lord knows what that’s like,” Joe smirks, words dripping with sarcasm.

            “Very funny,” Barry rolls his eyes, “Just leave it on my desk when you’re done.”

            “Hold up,” Joe stops him, “Where are you going?”

            “I need food,” Barry tells him, “and I made plans with certain people to get some.”

            “It’s not with a certain billionaire pretty boy, is it?”

            Barry turns, shocked by Eddie’s sudden appearance. He’s smirking behind his own coffee cup, blue eyes aglow with mischief.

            “No,” Barry shoves him lightly, “with Caitlin and Cisco.”

            “Surprised Bruce isn’t coming with you,” Eddie continues, “did you let him off the leash for today?”

            “No,” Barry huffs, turning, “…He wanted to come, but he had to work.”

            “Almost forgot he owned a multi-billion dollar company with how much you two have been spending together,” Joe jokes, causing a laugh to rise in Eddie.

            “Shut up,” Barry mumbles, ears bright red. He knows what the two are talking about, mind racing through the multitude of dates Bruce and he have went on in recent weeks. Whether it was expensive nights eating fancy cuisine or just simple visits to where Barry worked, it was like Bruce didn’t want to let him out of his sight. He feels the heat work through him the more he thinks about it.

            “Hello, Earth to Barry?”

            He blinks out of his memories, staring at the hand Eddie is waving in front of his face.

            “What?”

            “You okay there, Barry?” Eddie asks, pulling his hand back, “You spaced out there for a couple of minutes.”

            “It’s like your body was here in Central City,” Joe smirks, “but your mind was somewhere else… like, maybe Gotham?”

            “I work with toddlers!” Barry sighs, hanging his head.

            “We only kid, Bar,” Eddie chuckles, wrapping an arm around the speedster’s shoulders, “maybe you should get that stick out of your ass. Or maybe it’s Bruce’s-“

            “What we’re _trying_ to say,” Joe interrupts, “is that we joke because we care, Barry. Bruce must really mean a lot to you for you to act like this.” He says this with a small smile, almost wistful, bordering on a sadder emotion that Barry doesn’t notice.

            Instead he resumes blushing, but smiles. “Yeah,” he drawls, “he really does. I mean, I introduced him to dad over a month ago-“

            “He met Henry?”

            Barry looks up at his surrogate father, the smile falling from his face. Instead he looks surprised, mystified even.

            Barry quirks a worried brow, “Yeah… should I, uh… _not_ have done that?”

            Joe quickly finds his words again: “No, no, I mean… yes… maybe? I’m sorry, it’s just, I didn’t really see this coming.”

            “What?”

            “I think what he means is that, it’s shocking for Bruce Wayne,” Eddie moves more towards his partner, “to get as far as meeting the parents.”

            “What are you two talking about?” Barry asks.

            “It’s just…” Joe sighs, finishing up the coffee, “Bruce Wayne isn’t the type to really… _settle down_.”

            A cold chill starts to work its way up Barry’s spine.

            “Come on Joe,” Barry laughs awkwardly, “stop pushing my buttons. I get it, you care.”

            “That’s it Barry, I do care,” Joe continues, “It’s why whenever my kids start dating someone I do my research. You should see the file I have on this one over here.” He jerks a finger over in Eddie’s direction.

            “Hey-“

            “Band Camp.”

            The two words shut Eddie down faster than expected. Barry doesn’t even get to appreciate it, too busy trying to unravel the mystery of his surrogate father’s words.

            “I’m still lost,” Barry shakes his head, “what are you trying to say.”

            “I’m _saying_ that Bruce Wayne is, unfortunately, a billionaire playboy with a commitment issue,” Joe lays it all out, “and as much as I don’t want it to happen, I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

            Barry’s eyes widen.

            “You mean,” Barry whispers, “you think he’s going to leave me?”

            “All evidence points to it, Barry,” Joe explains, “he’s never had a serious relationship last longer than six months except for one woman named… Julie Madison. Came real close to a fairy tale ending before she left him a couple days after the engagement-“

            “Stop,” Barry says, turning away, “I shouldn’t be hearing this. It’s his past, he should be the one to tell me.”

            “I’m only looking out for you Barry,” Joe stands, “I meant what I said when it looks like he means a lot to you. You open your heart so easily and quickly that it makes it easier to break. I don’t want that to happen with you again. Remember how upset you were when Wells turned out to be bad? And remember how you acted for awhile after finding out Iris was…”

            He quiets, the storm cloud rolling over Barry’s features warning enough to not tread where he shouldn’t. Barry takes a harsh breath before continuing.

            “Joe,” Barry says icily, “Who I let into my life and how far I take it is my business. And if… I’ll handle it. But I don’t think that’s going to happen. I just hoped you would have trusted me enough…”

            “That’s the problem Bar, I _do_ trust you,” Joe says, “I just don’t trust _him_.”

            The quiet is charged between father and son. Barry looks like he has more to say before he shakes his head, smiling sadly.

            “I need to get going,” Barry chuckles, “I’ll be back when I’m back.” He makes a speedy exit, almost knocking into Singh on his way out. Singh doesn’t yell, however, only adjusts his hat with a far off look and continues on his way towards his office.

            Eddie and Joe watch Barry storm off. Joe sinks back into his chair tiredly. He massages his temples before looking up to Eddie’s knowing look.

            “What?” he barks.

            “Oh, nothing,” Eddie shrugs, “Just, I remember you saying something about ‘not judging’?”

            “I _lied_ ,” Joe says, “Of course I’m going to judge; I’m his father! I judge everyone who tries to get too close to my kids. Besides, I only said that to get you off Barry’s case.”

            Eddie blushes, recalling that brief period of time where he was angry, not at Barry. Unfortunately the speedster became the target of his frustrations.

            “ _Still_ ,” Eddie leans on Joe’s desk, “that was a real harsh thing to say to him. Like watching someone poke a kid’s balloon.”

            “You think I wanted to do that?” Joe rolls his eyes, “I didn’t want him to be mad at me. I was hoping to never bring up my… _research_ and all that shit, but _someone_ had to bring up his track record.”

            “Hey, even _I_ didn’t know about your extracurricular activiy!” Eddie defends, “Besides, how’d you find out about Band Camp?”

            “It’s better you don’t know,” Joe sighs, “Just… take these files and review them alongside the ones I gave you yesterday. See if anything matches up.”

            “You got it, Detective,” Eddie salutes, grabbing the file and moving towards his desk.

            Joe’s about to get back to… whatever work he _was_ doing when a small cough directs his attention somewhere else.

            “Excuse me, Detective West?”

            He looks up at the petite officer. She holds a large box that continues slipping out of her grasp as the seconds go by.

            “Yes, Officer…?”

            “Spivot, Patty Spivot,” she goes to shake his hand before she remembers the package, “Singh wants you to have this.”

            “Any reason?”

            “New rules apparently,” she shrugs, “it’s in the box. I need to distribute the rest… _lucky me_.” She turns away before Joe can say a proper goodbye.

            He looks at the box in confusion. However, he’s happy for the distraction, taking some nearby scissors to open up the package.

* * *

 

            “…So apparently Ronnie and Stein made it to Stein’s alma matter, and the stories he found out…”

            Caitlin and Cisco share a laugh, as Caitlin tells more and more about Professor Stein’s adventures in the “Swingin’ Sixties”. Barry, however, is silent. He sits, fuming from earlier. His two friends’ food had come and gone, while he continues picking at the sandwich he didn’t want anymore.

            Doubts and fears are wrapping themselves around his head. Shadows whisper secrets into his ears, rumors that hurt more than they should.

            Of course Barry knew _something_ about Bruce’s past. He’s a celebrity: Barry remembers watching, in passing, when the news would turn towards the entertainment section and cover the latest gala or sudden break-up.   He didn’t care enough to pay attention because he never thought he’d date someone that famous.

            Barry always assumed it be Iris.

            ‘ _Funny_ ,’ Barry thinks, _‘how life takes these sharp turns_.’

            And sure, going into it Barry didn’t think it would last. They would have their fun and be on their merry way. Barry would have a fun story to tell Iris when she gets back from Metropolis and they’d be on their merry way.

            But something changed.

            The way his thoughts suddenly started revolving around the Wayne CEO. How he inculcated himself into Barry’s mind so quickly. The way he acted whenever around Bruce, as if touching him was like touching a lightning rod. And something in Bruce’s eyes: an emotion he thought he could name by heart, now uncharted territory. The intensity in which they shown were akin to looking into the sun: blinding and powerful. And sometimes, when Barry was alone, he’d look into the mirror and see the same thing in his own eyes.

            But Joe’s worries have somehow poisoned everything. Brought the reality back to his fantasy. Tripped him up and left him to nurse the wounds on his own.

            “Barry? What do you think?”

            Barry looks back up, the meal cold in his hands. Caitlin and Cisco have drawn their brows in worry over their friend’s surprisingly out of character personality.

            “I’m sorry guys,” Barry sighs, dropping the food, “I’m totally bumming you out, aren’t I?”

            “No you’re not,” Caitlin starts, “but maybe you’ll feel better if you tell us what’s wrong?”

            Barry has the no on the tip of his tongue before he swallows it. It takes him awhile, but he starts.

            “Just…” Barry says, “I had a small fight with Joe. Like, I know he just wants the best for me, but the way he did it makes me feel like he doesn’t trust me to make my own choices.”

            “What did he do?” Cisco asks.

            “He was saying something about Bruce,” Barry rolls his eyes, “About how I need to be more careful with him or he might break my heart, how he’s done this before he’ll do it again, he doesn’t trust him, blah blah blah…”

            He starts to chuckle, only for the sound to die in his throat when he looks up to see his friends looking anywhere but him.

            “Not you guys, too-“

            “Sorry Barry,” Caitlin starts, “we really didn’t want to get involved, but when Joe asked us-“

            “Joe asked you to what?” Barry grits, anger rising.

            “It wasn’t like he forced us!” Cisco explains, “We care about you, too, y’know. So we may have dug around a little with some of the stuff Felicity installed awhile back-we found some pretty good stuff!”

            Barry feels claws at his throat.

            “I can’t believe you two!”

            Caitlin reaches a hand out to grasp at Barry’s, only to close around nothing. Her mouth turns down.

            “Barry, you have to admit, there’s something really fishy going on over at Wayne Corp.,” she starts, “Bruce came to town just as the criminals from _Gotham_ started showing up.”

            “They were stealing from _his_ company,” Barry defends his boyfriend.

            “A perfect way to cover his tracks,” Cisco shouts, “Hire someone else so he the suspicion is off him!”

            “Why would you even think this?” Barry shakes his head.

            “We found some interesting bank statements,” Cisco answers, “Serious amounts of money being wired through these dummy accounts and going… well, we couldn’t find out where, but it’s shady as Chancellor Palpetine in Revenge of the Sith.”

            “I can’t believe this,” Barry stands, “I won’t believe this.”

            “Barry, where are you going?”

            “Home,” he starts to leave, “I’m calling in sick. Because I _am_.”

            “Barry!” Cisco calls at his retreating figure. It’s too late, Barry speeding away the second the door rings. Cisco sighs, collapsing into his seat.

            “We could have been easier on him,” Caitlin sips at her drink.

            Cisco rolls his eyes, “You’ve seen how he’s been acting. We could have performed a song and dance and he would have still thrown a fit.”

            “Well can you blame him,” Caitlin says, “I think Barry might actually… _you know_ , with Wayne.”

            “It’s gonna _crush_ him when he leaves,” Cisco shakes his head.

            “I know,” Caitlin nods, “And, I know I’m bad for thinking it, but did you really think he had to go to _work_?”

            “Didn’t buy it for a second,” Cisco frowns.

            “So what do you think he was doing?”

* * *

 

            The house is silent. It has been ever since Barry returned home. He’s asleep, body stretched out across the sofa. He looks peaceful, but his dreams are anything but.

            The paranoia from his friends and family has seeped its way into his subconscious, and he gets to watch the fruits of their labor play out in his head.

            _Barry stands on the top of a skyscraper. He does not know how far it stretches up, only that if he looks over the edge nothing but an inky darkness waits._

_He tries to search for something, anything that could give him a clue as to where he is._

_There’s nothing there… until something, no… someone is._

_“…Bruce?”_

_His boyfriend stands in the center of roof. He seems to be the same person Barry has been getting to know these past few months… but not. Barry senses an edge to the warmth he normally feels. As if there was more to the man he thought he knew._

_“Barry,” Bruce says. It echoes in a voice that’s not his own… yet fits him so well: deeper, rougher._

_Barry takes a step back, closer to the edge. He’s scared, but feels safe as well._

_“Barry,” Bruce says, “I need to tell you something.”_

_“Please,” Barry whispers, “stay there.” He tries to run, but he’s rooted to the spot. He can’t feel his speed anywhere, as if it has left him._

_Behind Bruce he can see shadows racing out. It’s fast, like a tidal wave ready to swallow Bruce up._

_“I trust you, Barry,” Bruce warbles, “I trust you.”_

_The darkness rushes over Bruce. It wraps around his body like a cloak. It covers his face, presenting a mask that Barry feels he knows from somewhere._

_There’s a screech echoing out from somewhere._

_“What is it?” Barry yells over the sound, “What are you trying to tell me?”_

_“Barry… Barry…”_

            “Barry.”

            “Gah!”

            The speedster jumps, flipping over and face first onto the floor. He flips around, his wide eyes finding crinkled ones. He lets go of the breath he didn’t know he was holding.

            “Bruce?” Barry asks, “How did you get in here?”

            “I’m Batman.”

            The pause is longer than it should be before Barry starts laughing. He relaxes the longer it goes on, the tension from before somehow leaving him by Bruce’s presence alone. Bruce looks on with a somewhat comfortable smile, eyes darker than usual. However, by the time Barry looks back into them they have returned to their normal shade.

            “No, really,” Barry stands, brushing off the dust and taking a good, deep breath.

            “You left your door unlocked,” Bruce jerks a thumb at the opening, “pretty unsafe for the house of a detective.”

            “Well, I had a lot on my mind,” Barry scrubs at the back of his neck, heat rising to his cheeks.

            Bruce’s smile drops. He places a hand on Barry’s shoulder.

            “Are you okay?”

            Barry gives Bruce a half-smile. “Not really,” Barry shrugs.

            “Anything I can do?”

            Barry smiles fully now. “Just you being here with me is all I really need right now.”

            Bruce returns the smile. He walks around the couch to settle down next to his boyfriend. Barry leans in, letting Bruce wrap himself around Barry. Lets the warmth roll right back over him, smothering him in a cocoon of light. It drains the darkness from before: replacing the doubts with reaffirming strengths.

            “So,” Barry breaks the comfortable silence, “what did you get called in for?”

            “I had to look over some reports I received,” Bruce tells him, “apparently Central City has an _unexpected visitor_ that my people wanted me to be aware of. I’ll have to handle it soon, but I don’t expect it to be that rough.”

            “I’m glad your job seems easy,” Barry huffs.

            “What’s going on over at Central City’s Finest?”

            “You mean what isn’t,” Barry huffs a dry laugh, “For the past week and a half, I’ve seen more and more officers hours cut because Singh thinks that crime is going down. It isn’t. Except he’s been sweeping it all under the table and… well, let’s just say it’s really weird where I work right now.”

            “It sure sounds like it,” Bruce murmurs, “you think anything really is wrong?”

            “I don’t know,” Barry sighs, knocking his head into Bruce’s shoulder, “I mean, Singh’s been acting strange. I don’t think he’s yelled at me in over a week. He just… smiles and looks off into the distance. There’s a pool running between the officers about what it could be. The top two guesses are his boyfriend proposed or he’s been dipping into the narcotics department.”

            Bruce chuckles, the sound vibrating in his chest and spreading to Barry’s. It’s a nice feeling.

            “Glad to see at least something is going on down there,” Bruce smiles, “but maybe you need some more excitement? I hear there’s a late showing of that new movie based on that best-selling comic book series… Civil something. I have tickets?”

            Barry smiles. “I’d be glad to.”

            “Glad to what?”

            Barry and Bruce crane their necks behind them to see the new entrant. Joe stands in the hall with the package from before as well as another in his hands. He casts a curious and interested look at Barry. Barry’s mouth curves down.

            “To see a movie,” Barry answers in a clipped tone. He stands too fast, surprising Bruce. “Come on,” he pulls at the billionaire, “we can go get something to eat before it starts.”

            Bruce is pulled towards the door.

            “Nice seeing you again, Mr. West,” Bruce waves as he’s pulled out the door.

            “…You, too, I guess,” Joe says to no one. He sighs, letting his head hit his chest. He moves towards the kitchen to place the boxes down.

            He stands there, looking at nothing. His mind races with thoughts of regret, arguments and reasons defending his actions are stuck in his throat. He feels awful, but no matter how hard he tries to push down his suspicions for Barry, it cannot be contained.

            He needs a distraction, and the whiskey is too close to being empty.

            The phone rings.

            He picks it up.

            Tiredly, he answers: “Hello, Iris.” 

* * *

 

            “Shit shit shit shit shit shit _shit_!”

            Barry races to the Police Department: late. He thought he left that habit in the past when he received his powers, but sometimes they rear their ugly head again. Especially when you oversleep from a very exciting night before.

            After dinner and the movie, Bruce convinced Barry to follow him on an adventure through Central City’s park.

            Without all the extra people, Barry and Bruce were really able to enjoy each other’s company.

            The fact they could have been mugged at any second made it a touch scary, but also more thrilling. By the end of the walk, Barry was feeling a bit more turned on then usual.

            He came home with mussed hair and quickly healing love bites.

            And he woke up an hour past his alarm.

            While getting dressed, he may have thrown a couple of curses Joe’s way. Especially since his dad could have woken him up as they not only live together but also work at the same place. They might be fighting but he knew Joe would never get this petty.

            All he left was a note he didn’t have time to read and a weird package Barry easily ignored.

            Thankfully, it seems nothing important had really happened in the time it took for him to do his morning routine in even less time than usual and get out the door.

            He takes careful steps into the place only to stop dead in his tracks.

            Everyone, male and female, police officer and detective, were decked head to toe in new uniforms. The whole force was probably there, in their finest blues. Barry felt out of place in his red shirt.

            He tries to spot a familiar face, and thanks his lucky stars when he sees Eddie through a small partition in the crowd.

            Barry races over, grabbing his friend’s shoulder before he leaves.

            “Eddie!” Barry asks, “What’s going on?”

            Eddie, for his part, is not interested in Barry’s question, or Barry at all. He looks above Barry in a robotic manner.

            “You’re not wearing your uniform,” Eddie says flatly.

            “Was I?” Barry asks, “I didn’t get the memo-“

            “We need to be wearing our uniform,” Eddie interrupts, “he won’t like it.”

            “Who’s _he_? Singh?” Barry continues, “Was this why he’s been acting so strange?”

            “Come, he’ll know what to do,” Eddie grabs Barry’s upper arm roughly, pulling him towards Singh’s office. Barry’s shocked, but recovers enough to try and pull away. He doesn’t put on the speed, not in front of all his co-workers, but does try his best. That is until another strong hand grabs his arm.

            To his left, Joe follows Eddie’s lead. His face is stoic.

            “Joe?”

            “All officers must be in uniform,” he says, “Hats firmly in place.”

            “I am seriously confused.”

            They get to Singh’s door, which is wide open. Barry is dragged inside. The chair behind the desk is turned, the back facing Barry. But that’s not what is surprising him. To the chair’s right, Captain Singh stands as stiff as Joe and Eddie and most likely the rest of the force.

            “What’s going on?”

            “Didn’t you hear?” a voice comes from behind the desk. The chair turns and a small man with seriously bad teeth smiles.

            “What?” Barry says, “Who are you? What’s going on?”

            “Why we’re having a tea party, of course!” the man laughs, “There’s a dress code, though: all partygoers must wear a hat. But don’t worry… there’s always a hat when the Mad Hatter’s around!”

            His laughter is wild and manic, and Barry felt a fear start to build deep in his gut.

* * *

 

            Bruce wakes easily. He’s used to getting in late from long nights. However, the bruises he comes back with are filled with hate instead of love.

            He touches one on the jut of his neck, relishing the mark Barry left on his skin.

            “Sir?”

            Bruce turns, Alfred waiting under the doorjamb. He’s smiling.

            “Yes, Alfred,” Bruce coughs, blushing.

            “Breakfast is ready,” the butler answers, “I’d say come eat before it gets cold, but I think that’s exactly what you need right now.”

            Bruce glares at the retreating man before sighing. He gets out of bed to follow him towards the dining area.

            The spread is simple, but Bruce worked up an appetite last night. He works into the food with a great zeal.

            He looks up, mouth filled with eggs and bacon, to see Alfred holding back a chuckle.

            “What?” he says between chunks of food.

            “It’s just,” Alfred starts, “I don’t think I’ve seen you like this in awhile, sir.”

            Bruce swallows and rolls his eyes.   He’s about to respond until an alert blares across his phone.

            He looks at the device, and the smile falls from his face. The same goes for Alfred’s smile.

            “Duty calls?” the old man guesses. Bruce wipes away the meal from his mouth and stands.

            “Sensors picked up Hatter’s signal,” Bruce explains, “we’ve got a lock on where he is.”

            “And that would be?”

            “Central City Police Department.”

* * *

            “Mad Hatter?” Barry chuckles uncomfortably, “I didn’t know I stepped through the Looking Glass on my way to work?”

            “Oh don’t worry ol’ chap, this is _far too real_ ,” he jumps from the seat. He scurries his way towards Barry. He may be half his height, but the madman is twice as frightening.

            “What are you doing here then?” Barry asks, buying time for… _anything,_ really.

            “Wouldn’t you like to know,” the Hatter laughs, “so I’ll tell you!”

            Barry breathes a sigh of relief that villains love expositions.

            “I’ve been tasked to clean up a little unexpected problem here in Central City-“

            “The Batman?”

            Barry’s is dragged forward, by his collar, to stare into the Mad Hatter’s off-color eyes as he snarls: “Do _not_ interrupt me… _EVER!_ ”

            His voice is like a knife, held against Barry’s neck and pressing just hard enough to draw blood. But soon enough he returns to his usual off-tune, airy tone.

            “Now, as I was saying before I was _rudely_ intruded upon verbally… I was hired to handle an unexpected problem. The Batman was already an expected player in this game… _The Flash_ , however, is an uninvited guess.”

            Barry gulps.

            “So, I think to myself, ‘How do I get to the Flash?’ Well… through carefully research I realized he must work very closely with the police department, and then the idea comes to me faster than the Red Queen orders a head to roll! If I can control the police department, I can easily trap the Flash and remove him and get rid of another problem all in one swoop!”

            “So they’re going to help you find the Flash?” Barry asks.

            “Now, now, boy, not _they_ ,” Hatter smiles, grabbing a hat, “ _we_.”

            “What?”

            “Once you’re wearing one of my patented police hats, you’ll not only be forced to help me find, capture, and _kill_ the Flash… you’ll _want_ to do it.”

            Barry tries again to break free. He wriggles in Joe and Eddie’s grip, only for Eddie to kick his legs in, forcing him on his knees.

            “Don’t worry,” Hatter coos, “you’ll join your friends soon enough. Singh! Hold his neck!”

            Singh moves forward, grabbing his neck and head to keep him in place. The closer the Hatter gets, the wider Barry’s eyes get. The hat is now hovering over Barry’s head, getting closer and closer until…

            _Fzzzzzzzt-pop!_

            Barry opens his eyes slowly, his thoughts still his own. The Hatter looks on disappointedly at first… only for it to swiftly turn to anger. He gets right into Barry’s face.

            “I don’t like it when people break my _toys_!”

            Barry’s at a loss for words, no idea why the hat did not work on him. Thankfully, the Mad Hatter turns away from him.

            “I don’t know how you did that, but it won’t work again,” he tells Barry, “West! Thawne! Keep him under lock and key! I don’t want him out of your sight until he’s got a hat on his head!”

            Barry is forced back up onto his feet.

            “Yes, sir!”

            He’s dragged back out of the office. His mind is awhirl, too many things rushing for attention. He sipped from the cup of the Hatter, and now he’s questioning his own sanity.

* * *

 

            To mindless servants, lock and key must have meant ‘cuff him to the closest radiator.’ Barry sits in a far part of the office, where his adoptive father and friend watch him with blank stares. It’s unsettling, to say the least.

            “I feel like I’d be more witty if this wasn’t so… crazy.”

            No response. He sighs, turning to look out the window.

            If he looks down, he can see regular people going about their day. They don’t know the evil worming its way throughout the building. Don’t understand that the city’s sworn protectors have now become blunt instruments in the hand of a mad man.

            If he looks back into the office, he’ll only make himself more upset. Watching friends and co-workers act like shells of themselves; controlled by a hive mind of villainy. Their faces are blank masks. While their bodies work their minds slumber away.

            All except his.

            He still doesn’t know how and why he was able to avoid the same fate, but Barry has a guess: his speed. His body must have reacted to counter the effects of the hat. Barry hopes the Hatter doesn’t figure it out as well, or he can kiss the radiator goodbye.

            Barry turns back to face Joe. He tries to look him in the eye, but the elder stares at nothing.

            “Well… as long as you won’t remember this…” Barry starts, “you pulled a real dick move, Joe.”

            “I understand what you did, Joe, I really do. I get it. But I’m still mad you did it. That you felt like you had to. That you had to go behind my back and ask my friends to do the same: all because you thought it was in my best interest. Well… I don’t care what you found. Yes, he might have a bad history with relationships and maybe there’s more to him than meets the eye but… but even knowing all of that I still _trust_ him. I trust that, if he is hiding something, he’ll be able to tell me. That it isn’t bad. I just… I wish you all would have trusted _me_.”

            The glass shatters behind him. He turns to see a dark figure break its way into the room. Joe and Eddie jump up only to be knocked back down by Batman’s swift blows.

            “Careful!” Barry yells, “I might be mad at them but they don’t deserve that!”

            Batman turns, eyes narrowing.

            “Mind helping out?”

            Barry rolls his eyes, but still vibrates his wrists free of the cuff. He rubs at the tender skin, only for Batman to grab it and check it over himself.

            “Hey! Hey! I’m fine!” Barry pulls back his wrist, blushing.

            Batman looks away, “Just checking,” he says, “Come on, we need to neutralize Hatter before-“

            “What’s all this then?”

            Hatter stands at the opening of the room. Behind him, the force waits like soldiers for their next command.

            “Tetch,” Batman grits.

            “I told you,” Hatter sneers, “the name is Hatter.”

            “Your name is Jervis Tetch,” Batman says, “And you’re supposed to be in Arkham, rehabilitating.”

            “Funny word that is… ‘rehabilitating’,” Hatter giggles, “so misused nowadays. I will say I’m doing better, got myself some structure, and joined a nice crew, even. Got big plans, it does… sadly you won’t be a part of them. Police, fire at will!”

            They crowd go for their guns and Barry freezes, bracing for impact.

            It never comes.

            He opens his eyes to darkness. Batman’s cape is draped over the both of them, and Barry has been pulled into the marble of Batman’s body. The bullets bounce off the fabric, but not for long.

            “Do you know a place we can go?”

            “Y-yeah,” Barry stutters, “my lab is right above. If we can just get up there, we can have some time to think.”

            “Alright.”

            Barry feels an arm snake around his waist and how it tightens. He’s lifted, carried towards the open window as he and Batman jump out. He hears the grappling hook fire rather than sees it, and watches the blur of the building as he and the Dark Knight are propelled into the lab, breaking that window as well.

            They land in a tumble, ending with Batman’s body pressed against Barry’s.

            “Uhh, Batman?” Barry blushes fiercely.

            “Sorry,” Batman gets up. He offers a hand to Barry and pulls him upright as well.

            The two turn, hearing footsteps fast approaching. Barry acts quick, speeding towards the door and locking it. For an extra measure, he barricades it in less than 3 seconds.

            “That should buy us some time,” Barry sighs. A loud bang from the door, followed by the file cabinet falling, tells a different story.

            “So what’s the deal with this Hatter guy?” Barry turns back to Batman.

            Batman pulls out brass knuckles while he explains. “Jervis Tetch used to be an ordinary man until his obsession with Lewis Carroll’s novel and a young woman named Alice became the spring board to who he is today. He’s a talented neuroscientist and technician, his mind control technology being very advanced.”

            “But there’s a way to stop it, right?” Barry asks, “To free everyone?”

            “Usually, crushing Hatter’s hat breaks the others from his control but getting to it this time around is going to be difficult,” Batman says, turning to face Barry, “especially since you can’t reveal your identity.”

            “Right,” Barry says, “but there’s got to be a way we can disrupt the broadcast right? Like a jammer?”

            The door shakes, more items falling from it.

            “Do you think you’ll have enough time?”

            There’s nothing left guarding the door. All that keeps the two separated from the horde of zombies outside a simple lock.

            “Trust me, I will.”

            Batman stares at Barry for a long beat before he nods in agreement. Then he turns towards the door just as all hell breaks loose.

            “I want to see The Batman dead! I want to see you take his _head!_ ”

            The police force rush in, forcing Batman into combat. He does his best to keep casualties low, but some slip through. One woman will have a broken arm, another policeman a dislocated kneecap. The Captain will have a serious headache when he wakes up.

            “How’s it going back there?” Batman yells in the midst of battle, knocking two heads together.

            “Almost done!” Barry returns, using the mass confusion from the fight to hide most of his speed. He’s thankful his lab contains just the right materials he can jerry rig the jammer. It’s not that long until it’s finished.

            “What’s the frequency I should set it too?”

            “Put it on-oof!”

            Batman gets sucker punched by Joe, sending him to the floor. He cradles his jaw, about to get back up. The barrel of Joe’s standard pistol keeps him where he is.

            “Batman!”

            “Now, now, boy, calm down!” Hatter smiles, moving forward into the room, “This will all be over soon.”

            Barry darts his eyes around the room, from Batman to Joe to Hatter to _anything_ that might stop all this.

            “Detective West, if you won’t mind?”

            Batman braces, closing his eyes.

            The following thud startles them back open.

            All around them the police officers’ bodies fall as the connection has been severed like puppets whose strings have been cut. Hatter watches this all, anger filling the small man to the brim.

            “What?” he shrieks, “What happened?”

            “Tea Time’s Over, Hatter,” Barry smirks from behind.

            “What-ack!”

            Before he could say anything else, Barry hits him with a jab across the temple, knocking him out like his servants before him. Barry cracks his knuckles, smiling, when he hears the groaning.

            Batman is trying to pull himself up, worn out from the never-ending onslaught of officers.

            “Here, let me,” Barry moves towards him, pulling him up.

            However, he misjudged his strength, and pulls Batman in closer than expected.

            Their bodies are too close, yet they don’t pull away. Not yet. Batman and Barry’s eyes are locked for a long time. The silence stretches on before one of them breaks it.

            “We make a good team,” Batman breathes. Barry can feel it tickle his nose. Feels a familiar sensation work itself through his body. He shivers.

            “Yeah,” Barry whispers. He falters in his gaze, darting down to watch Batman’s tongue dart out to lick at his lips.

            Batman notices this himself. He steps in closer to Barry’s personal space. He lifts a hand towards Barry’s face, as if in a trance. Like a spell has been cast that both are susceptible, too.

            It’s over just as soon as it began.

            Batman blinks, and shakes his head the smallest of fractions. His hand falters, and continues only to lightly tap at Barry’s chin.

            “You’re chiseled too, y’know.”

            “What?”

            A nearby grunt draws Barry’s attention away for the slightest of seconds. But that’s all Batman needs before he’s disappeared. Barry stares at where Batman was, body burning with something that delights but frightens him at the same time. He’d reflect on it more if the grumbling didn’t get louder.

            He shakes his head, turning back around to where Joe tries to get up.

            “Joe!”

            He rushes to him, helping him up. Everyone else around him is starting to wake up as well.

            “What just happened?”

            Barry looks back at the window.

            “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

* * *

             “So you’re telling me that these hats have the power to control whoever wears them?”

            Barry rolls his eyes at Cisco’s over-eager expression. “They used to,” he says, “Fortunately I was able short it out.”

            “How’d you do that by the way?” Eddie asks, ice pack held tight against his cheek.

            “While Hatter was distracted, I used my speed to check the frequency I vibrate at and set the device to that,” Barry explained, “worked for myself so I figured it would work for everyone. Well… I hoped.”

            “It paid off, Barry,” Joe clapped him on the back, “you did good.”

            “Thanks…” Barry says, “But it wasn’t just me. Batman really helped, too.”

            “You sure these hats didn’t affect you?” Cisco asks, “Because the Barry we know wouldn’t actively complement Gotham’s vigilante.”

            “Shut up, Cisco,” Barry smiles, “He’s… not that bad.”

            “He said with hearts in his eyes,” Eddie laughs.

            Barry punches Eddie on a big bruise, sending the blonde to the ground in pain.

            “Seriously though,” Barry continues, “I was wrong before. He’s a good guy. And he knows a lot about these Gotham criminals that are making their way through Central. He’ll be a big help.”

            “You sure Barry?” Joe asks.

            “I’m sure,” Barry smiles, looking at something no one else can see, “I trust him, and that’s all _I_ need.”

* * *

 

            “You sure this is a good idea?”

            “Of course, he’ll be happy-“

            “But don’t you think we should call?”

            “It’s called a surprise for a reason, dummy.”

            Oliver looks up from the gas valve at Felicity. She sits with her nose in a map in the passenger seat. He rolls his eyes before abandoning the pump and moving forward.

            “I know what surprises are, Felicity,” he smiles, leaning on the car door.

            She smiles back, more smug. “Well then don’t question me,” she says.

            Oliver laughs, “You’re lucky I love you.”

            “More like you’re lucky I let you love me,” Felicity fires back.

            The gas pump dings, signaling the car is fully loaded. Oliver puts the pump back into its holster and gets back into the car. He turns the key and drives back out onto the road.

            “Where to?”

            “Make a left in the next mile. It’ll put us on the shortest route to Central City."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you all like this chapter as much as I did? Leave a kudos or a comment to let me know!
> 
> Now about the finale...  
> Everything I thought was great right up until the end. Barry's willingness to sacrifice, Team Flash working together to get shit done, and the Jay reveal (which I called the moment the man in the iron mask was revealed).  
> But then, the last minute had to happen.  
> Barry Fucking Allen... I did NOT need Flashpoint in my life again.  
> Because now I'm gonna have to suffer through episodes where Barry has to explain to people "This isn't the real timeline" "we're friends!"  
> Like, ugh!


	11. Tricks of the Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barry still hasn't forgiven Team Flash for their inquiry into Bruce's intentions. Thankfully, a visit from Oliver and Felicity might be the thing that helps bring them all together again. Yet will Barry listen to Oliver once he observes his new relationship. Although, which relationship is he going to comment on?
> 
> Read to find out!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everybody!  
> I really hope you all like this chapter! While writing, I got carpal tunnel in each hand (at different times thankfully) but I kept on writing. Because I care about this story and you, the readers.  
> Now that I don't have school I can focus more on my writings, especially this one!  
> Enjoy!

            The coffee house is packed. Felicity stands outside the familiar place, staring at the long line in fright. She winces when she sees even more people get on.

            “I thought you were supposed to be on line?’

            Oliver kisses her on the cheek, startling her. She turns to look at him, rolling her eyes.

            “That was before I saw the line,” she tells him.

            “We’ve faced worse,” Oliver shrugs, taking her hand.

            “I don’t know,” Felicity chuckles, “Ra’s has nothing on an overworked middle-aged man with a caffeine fix.”

            “Well,” Oliver puts, “why don’t we just wait inside for the rush to end?”

            “I think that’s a great idea, sweetie,” she pulls them forward, through the open door. They look around for any available seating, only to see it’s much worse inside. Every table is filled to the limit.

            However, their saving grace is in the eye of this storm.

            “Cisco! Caitlin!”

            The two turn, eyes lighting up when they catch sight of their two blonde friends.

            “Felicity!” Caitlin bounces up, walking over to embrace the other woman. Felicity returns with the same intensity, smile hidden in Caitlin’s honey waves. They pull back.

            “What are you two doing in Central?”

            “Well, we’re on a little vacation after… _everything_ ,” Felicity explains, looking back at Ollie, “and decided to pop in for a visit!”

            “Come, sit, we have so much to talk about!” Caitlin pulls Felicity towards the table. Oliver follows with a cheeky smile.

            The two sit across from the STAR Lab workers.

            “Sorry I didn’t get up,” Cisco shrugs, “I’m pretty sure we would have lost the table otherwise.”

            “We understand,” Felicity looks around, “this place is more packed than usual.”

            “It’s because Jitters is offering a new promotion,” Caitlin holds up her cup, “a coffee based on one of Central City’s _finest_.” The lightning logo is proudly embossed on the cup, letting the couple know just who the shop is honoring.

            “Speaking of,” Oliver quirks a brow, “where is Barry?”

            Cisco and Caitlin look at each other before frowning. Felicity raises a brow.

            “I take it something happened?”

            “It’s a long story,” Caitlin tells them, “Barry’s kind of peeved off at… _all_ of us at the moment.”

            “Barry?” Oliver scoffs, “I wouldn’t think that’s possible.”

            “You’d be surprised,” Cisco mutters, “It takes a lot, but once it happens… _oh boy_.”

            “We only really see him when he’s ‘The Flash’,” Caitlin says, “we’re giving him some space for the moment.”

            “At least we’re not Joe,” Cisco adds on, “he has to work _and_ live with Barry while he gives him the cold shoulder. Must really be killing him.”

            “What did you all do?” Felicity asks.

            “Well, it all started when-“

            Sirens blare in the background, cutting through all conversations in the coffee house. All four turn towards the door as they see a car speeding across the street, chased by three police cars and a red blur.

            Felicity turns to Oliver, “The suit’s in the trunk, along with some arrows and the bow.”

            “But I thought-“

            “Why do you think I made you stop for the night in Coast City?” Felicity smiles, “I had Diggle send it over once we were on our way to Central. Had a feeling this might happen.”

            “You’re the best,” Oliver kisser her, getting up. He makes a quick exit, heading towards his car.

            “So,” Felicity stands as well, “why don’t we continue this story over at STAR. I’m gonna need a ride, though.”

* * *

             The tires burn against the asphalt as the clown car turned criminal getaway leads the squadron of police cars down a strange path. One of the criminals sticks his head out of the crazily painted car. His wild hair blows out even more in the wind, and his crazed eyes hone in on his “fans”.

            “Put the pedal to the metal, Axl!” he laughs, sticking his head back inside the moving vehicle.

            “It won’t go faster, pop!” Axl screams to his father: famed Trickster terrorist James Jesse. James shoots him a dull look, before it’s replaced with a devilish smile.

            “Well then, it looks like we’re stuck,” he giggles, “Or, perhaps _they_ are?”

            The giggling turns into full-blown cackling as he presses a button on the dashboard. The button activates, and the trunk pops open. From the now open compartment, a pink substance flows out. It coats the street.

            The police see this happen, but react too late. They drive over the covering, and instantly stop moving.

            “Sorry to _gum_ up the works officers!” James looks out again, laughing, “Hope you can forgive me!”

            They drive off, leaving the officers and their cars stuck in the goop. Some try to get out, only to end up stuck themselves.

            Flash catches up and stops just before stepping in the mess himself.

            “Flash!” one of the cops yells, “The Tricksters are still on the move! We’ll get out of this… somehow…”

            Flash looks around for a second, before a smile lights up his face. He races over towards the closest hydrant and kicks it at super-speed. One of the arms break, and water goes spilling out. It reaches the gum, and soon the mixture starts to dissolve.

            “Thanks Flash!” another officer says as the Scarlet Speedster dashes off, continuing his pursuit.

            He is able to catch up with the two, keeping a comfortable pace right behind them.

            Axl looks in the rearview mirror and frowns.

            “More company,” he grits.

            James smiles, “Calm down my boy, we can handle this.” He presses the button once more, only for it to make a discordant sound.

            James’s smile falls. He keeps hitting the button, only for the same noise to echo, getting progressively louder and more annoying. He turns on his son.

            “I thought you said it was _full_?” he asks, threateningly.

            Axl shrugs, “I thought it came that way?”

            “You idiot!” James shrieks, moving to strangle his son, no care that he is what keeps them from careening off the road.

            “Now, now,” Flash jokes, speeding around them, “settle down you two.”

            The red blur whips around the car, tearing it apart until nothing is left but the seats and the criminals in them. The Flash poses with a tire under his foot.

            “Wouldn’t want to _tire_ yourselves out.”

            He kicks it away and it bounces in front of the two lawbreakers.

            “Keep your day-job you annoying red nit-wit,” James grumbles, forcing himself into a standing position.

            “Only if you promise to surrender peacefully,” Flash smirks, “I think this city has had enough tricks from the both of you.”

            Axl smirks, “But where’s the fun in that?”

            “It isn’t supposed to be fun-“

            “That’s because you’re not telling it right,” Axl grins, hand behind his back, “you forgot the _punch-line_!”

            He draws a small, expandable boxing glove from his pocket and launches it, the faux fist gunning for Flash’s face.

            The Flash catches it easily, smirking at the father-son criminal team.

            “You’ll have to do better than that.”

            “It always takes some time before dull-birds like you get it,” James smirks, “but once you do, it’ll be a real… _blast_!”

            The Flash’s eyes widen as he glances at the glove just at it explodes. He can feel himself being covered in the sticky, gum-like substance from before. It gets everywhere, and he only has time to think how lucky he was that his costume covers his hair. When the smoke clears, he’s pinned to the ground, arms and legs akimbo under the gunk.

            He struggles in it, but can’t seem to get out.

            ‘ _Not again…_ ’

            “Well, isn’t this grand, son?” James walks towards the incapacitated hero, “Looks like we _chewed_ out the Flash!”

            “Yeah, pop!” Axl nods, “It looks like he’s… uh, he… chew… gum…”

            The elder Trickster rolls his eyes. “Just,” he sighs, “get me ol’ Bazooka Joe from the wreckage, you _hack_.”

            Axl nods, grabbing the large, comical gun from what remains of the ar. He bounces back to his father, dropping it into his waiting hands.

            “Once we’re finished with you, Flash,” James smirks, “there won’t be anything to _cry_ over.”

            Flash blinks up at the barrel, mouth slightly open in shock. He hasn’t given up on trying to get out, however the more he vibrates the more he gets stuck. James’s finger plays with the trigger.

            _Crack_.

            All three turn their heads toward the sound. Flash’s eyes land on the sleek bat-shaped weapon he’s come to know in recent month first, but then it slides over to the two halves of an arrow, broken by the former weapon.

            “Drat,” James mutters, “It’s always so rude for guests to arrive unexpected. Axl, grab the cargo and let’s get out of here!”

            He drops the weapon and starts to run, Axl following after carefully lifting the bag from what’s left of the backseat.

            From opposite sides of the street, two figures drop down from their respective roofs. They are both familiar to the Flash, yet the one to his left surprises him more.

            The black-cloaked figure to his right is about to continue after the criminals when an arrow lodges itself into the building, the shaft sticking out across the masked man’s face. He turns to stare at the green hooded man.

            “I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” the hooded figure says, “wouldn’t want all the crooks to escape.”

            “I’m not-“

            Three more arrows fly at him before he could finish, causing him to roll out of the way. He launches his own weapons, sending them flying towards the other. The archer side steps them and races forward, swiping his bow in front of him.

            The bow misses, the other man ducking out of the way and sweeping his leg under his attacker’s feet.

            The hooded man falls on his butt. He’s about to get up when he feels a boot place itself on his chest, and he’s staring up at the man’s white lenses. He has another bat shaped shuriken drawn.

            “Batman!”

            The man turns. He stares at where the Flash is. From where he’s lying, the hooded hero can see the emotions running across the ‘Batman’s’ face. Ultimately, he moves his foot off his chest and walks toward the Flash. While the archer is rubbing at his chest, the Batman throws small devices at the Flash.

            Behind the domino mask, the archer’s eyes widen at first, only for his fear to calm when he sees the gum freeze, and the Flash breaking free.

            The Flash jumps up with a helping hand from Batman. The two stare at each other for a long time, Batman having pulled the Flash up a little too close. The green hooded man can see the conversation silently playing out between the two. It sends warning signals flashing through his mind.

            “Ahem.”

            The Flash whips his head, face red. He smiles, nevertheless, as he rushes over to him.

            “Arrow!”

            “Flash…” Arrow accepts the Flash’s hand, “and… Batman?”

            Flash looks behind him at where the Batman stands, arms firmly crossed and scowl etched under the cowl.

            He rolls his eyes, “Ignore the scowl. He’s a good guy.”

            “I’ve _heard_ ,” Arrow drawls, “although I thought he was more of an urban legend than an actual person.”

            “There’s always some truth to legends,” Batman smirks. The Flash snorts.

            Arrow is about to retort when he hears another round of sirens. He and the Flash watch as more police officers come onto the scene. When Arrow looks back at where the Batman should be, he’s already vanished.

            “What-“

            “Yeah, he does that sometimes,” Flash pats him on the back, “you get used to it. Want a lift to STAR?”

            “I brought a car-“

            He doesn’t get to finish, as the Flash has already picked him up and sped away.

* * *

 

            “So, hold up, let me get this right. You’re telling me Barry’s dating a _billionaire_?”

            Felicity lets her jaw hang, unsure if she’ll be able to close it in the near future. She leans on the console while Caitlin and Cisco sit in front of her. They’ve been biding their time, waiting for their friends.

            “Yeah, out of nowhere right?” Cisco laughs, “I mean, who even knew he was interested in _guys_?”

            The words are on the tip of her tongue before she swallows them. However, the two STAR Lab employees noticed her mind whirring to life.

            “Anything to share, Felicity?” Caitlin asks, leaning in.

            “Well…” Felicity starts, “The idea might have entered my head when I caught him ogling Oliver during one of his bar exercises.”

            “No way!” Cisco smiles, “Oh, I can’t wait to bring that up-“

            “Bring what up?”       

            The three turn to see Oliver and Barry entering the lab. Cisco and Caitlin smile at the two, yet Barry seems to ignore them in favor of Felicity. She raises a brow at this, the action not going unnoticed, but decides to file it away for later.

            “Barry!” Felicity throws her arms open. The speedster gladly throws himself into her embrace.

            “I hear a congratulations are in order,” Barry says, “Getting Oliver to finally pull his head from out his ass must have been difficult.”

            “It was,” Felicity nods, laughing at the look Oliver makes behind Barry’s back, “But I also hear you deserve some praise yourself!”

            Barry pulls away, confused.

            Felicity tips her head forward, “I’m not the only awkward nerd to be in a relationship.”

            “You and Iris?” Oliver steps forward, a small smile on his face.

            Barry looks back at him, with a frown instead of a smile.

            “No,” he starts, “I, uh, I have a _boyfriend_.”

            Oliver furrows his brows, but then he starts to connect the dots. He gasps.

            “It’s not with that Batman guy is it?”

            Barry pales. Cisco and Caitlin exchange looks, eyebrows almost level with their hairlines. Felicity is just confused.

            “Batman…?”

            “He’s-he’s a _friend_ ,” Barry explains, “He’s helping me with a recent influx of Gotham criminals, and from time to time the occasional Central City rogue… that’s all. I’m _actually_ dating Bruce Wayne.”

            “Wayne?” Oliver asks, “He’s in Central City?”

            “Yeah,” Barry smiles, “We met a couple months ago, a little after that drama with Wells. We’ve been seeing each other since. You two… _know_ each other?”

            Oliver licks his lips, looking away. “We, uh, ran in the same circles, back before the island,” he scratches the back of his head, “I might have seen him at some parties but, I’m not that sure. It was all blurry.”

            “Ugh, you old party boy,” Felicity walks forward to wrap her arms around his waist, “No wonder you’re not that smart. Brain damage from a young age, _tsk tsk_.”

            “Hey!”

            “It’s okay,” she kisses him, smiling, “You’re lucky I’m invested in your _looks_.”

            “Blech,” Cisco groans, “I think I liked it better when you two had tension.”

            The couple rolls their eyes at his antics.

            “Ignore him,” Caitlin walks forward, towards Barry, “Anyway, what happened with the bad guys?”

            “Escaped,” Barry answers, moving before Caitlin can place a hand on his shoulder. She lets it hang for a beat before pulling it back towards her.

            Oliver continues where Barry left off: “The Tricksters trapped Barry and before I could save him that Batman guy _interrupted_ -“

            “You’re just saying that because he whooped your ass,” Barry smiles.

            “I could have taken him,” Oliver frowns, “he’s not so tough. He’s just a vigilante who takes the law into his own hands, how hard is it to beat that?”

            He opens his eyes to see everyone looking at him strangely.

            “Like I said,” Felicity pats his arm, “Less talking, more abs.”

            “What did the Tricksters even steal though?” Cisco asks, bringing the conversation back to the topic.

            Barry moves towards the computers, sending Cisco away and towards Caitlin. He types for a few seconds before bringing the images up on the screens.

            “They robbed an army transport,” Barry tells them all, “Stealing a very dangerous amount of experimental charges.”

            “Knowing Trickster’s MO,” Caitlin says, “This won’t end well.”

            “Which is why we need to find them before anything bad happens,” Barry stalks forward, “Oliver, you wanna come with me to work? Maybe something there will help.”

            “Sure,” Oliver smiles, “Can we swing by my car? I left my street clothes back there.”

            “Definitely,” Barry says. He changes out of his Flash suit in a second before picking Oliver up once again and speeding out.

            “We’ll just do what we do best, then,” Cisco calls. He sighs, threading fingers through his hair. Caitlin bites on her lip, staring at where Barry once was.

            Felicity sighs.

            “Alright you two, spill,” she folds her arms across her chest, “What happened?”

            Cisco and Caitlin exchange guilty looks before answering.

            “We, might have,” Caitlin scratches behind her ear, “done some things that Barry isn’t happy with.”

            “Like maybe,” Cisco continues, mumbling, “sneak a peek at some _personal_ files belonging to Mr. Wayne.”

            “What?”

            “Joe asked us to,” Caitlin starts.

            You could have said no!” Felicity interrupts.

            “We thought we’d find nothing!” Cisco throws his hands up, “it’s not our fault we actually found _something_!”

            “And when Barry told us that Joe said stuff about his… _research_ ,” Caitlin says, “we, uh, didn’t realize Joe didn’t tell him _all_ of what he did. So when we told him what we found he… wasn’t thrilled.”

            “When did all this happen?” Felicity massages the crease between her brows.

            “…Two weeks ago.”

            Felicity shakes her head. She upgrades her massage from the crease to the sides of her temples.

            “I actually can’t believe this…”

* * *

             ‘ _I actually can’t believe this…_ ’

            Oliver smiles at Barry as he babbles about what he’s missed in Central City. After changing back into his regular clothes, Oliver offered to drive Barry to the police station, giving them more time to talk and catch up.

            By the time they exit the elevator, Oliver sort of wishes Barry sped them over instead.

            “…And then, oh this is my favorite part,” Barry continues as they walk out the elevator, “he pulls a bouquet out from behind his back and this… this bee! Oh, this bee flies out and startles him! Knocks him on his ass! The flowers hit his face, and the bee just, just darts towards them and-“

            “Oliver!” Joe interrupts, smiling, “To what do we owe the pleasure?”

            “Hey Joe,” Oliver waves. He feels Barry stiffen up next to him.

            “Barry,” Joe tries.

            “Joe,” Barry says, clipped. He turns to Oliver, “I’ll be in my lab.”

            “Wait, Barry!” Joe calls after him, but only gets ignored. The older man sighs, shaking his head.

            “Everything okay?” Oliver asks, tilting his head.

            “No,” Joe sighs, “it isn’t. But, we can discuss this later. I have some work I need to catch up on.”

            “Alright,” Oliver smiles, tight-lipped, “I’ll just wait for Barry here then-“

            “That might take some time,” Joe rolls his eyes, “Barry’s bound to get _distracted_ up there.”

            Oliver is even more confused, that is until Joe motions towards the stairs with his head. The Star City native gets the hint.

            “Should I… go get him, then?”

            “If you want,” Joe shrugs, “but be warned: _knock_.”

            Oliver wants to ask ‘why’, but decides to start towards the lab, instead. As he gets further up the stairs he hears some noises: some… _familiar_ noises. He scrunches up his nose in realization.

            It’s when he hears a breathy “ _Barry_ …” that he decides to intervene.

            “Barry?” Oliver knocks, “Everything alright in there?”

            He’s answered by a serious of crashes and sounds.

            “Yeah!” Barry yells, shakily, “Oliver, you can-you can come in!”

            Oliver opens the door. He sees Barry tugging his shirt down, smoothing out wrinkles. His hair is much more mussed than usual. The other man in the room fared much better. He only airs out his jacket and runs a hand through his hair.

            “…Hello?”

            “Oliver!” Barry breathes, “So sorry. I’d-uh, I’d like to introduce you to Bruce!”

            “Hello Oliver,” Bruce smiles, holding his hand out, “long time no see.”

            “Yes,” Oliver returns the smile, “it sure has.” He extends his own hand for Bruce’s take. Bruce’s grip is strong.

            While Bruce shakes Oliver’s hand, he takes him in. What really catches his attention is Wayne’s eyes. They’re blue, but it’s not the color that draws him in, it’s what he sees inside them. Sees how Bruce is sizing him up. Can imagine the things Bruce is thinking. Recognizes a familiar edge hiding deep down, something he’s seen flash in his own eyes from time to time.

            Oliver feels a pricking at the base of his spine: an odd feeling of familiarity the longer he’s in Wayne’s presence.

            He returns from himself, however, when he notices Barry’s mouth moving.

            “…when he stopped by he noticed I was out,” he says, “so he decided to wait until I came back.”

            “Did you now?” Oliver raises a brow.

            “I know I could have been doing something else with my time,” Bruce lets go, pocketing his hands, “but I didn’t want to leave just in case Barry came back. If I had known you’d be catching up with a friend…” He trails off, turning to Barry.

            “No, it’s okay,” Barry laughs, “I was just telling him about us, really-hey. Why don’t we all grab lunch somewhere! Together!”

            “I’m good with that,” Bruce throws his arm around Barry, pulling him in tight. He looks at Oliver with a raised brow of his own, “You?”

            Oliver forces a smile.

            “I’d like that very much.” 

* * *

 

            “So I hear Oliver’s in town?”

            Joe looks up from paperwork to see a smirking Eddie standing above him.

            “How’d you hear that?” Joe leans back, crossing his arms.

            Eddie holds up his phone, where a grainy video of Oliver in his costume plays fighting Batman.

            “Seems he’s still as sociable as always,” Joe chuckles.

            “Which one are you talking about?” Eddie cocks a brow.

            “Fair point,” Joe laughs.

            “That’s not even the best part,” Eddie says, swiping his finger across the screen, “look at what happened to Barry!”

            Joe takes the phone from his partner’s hands, eyes widening as he sees Barry’s trapped figure underneath the gigantic gum wad.

            “How’d he get out of that one?”

            Eddie moves to lean over Joe’s shoulder.

            “With a little help from that shadow with a face.”

            Eddie fast-forwards to when Batman frees Barry. Joe watches as Batman pulls him up. Sees the scant space between them. Can read their faces even with the low quality video casting a film across the entire scene.

            Joe puts the phone face down on his desk. He folds his hands under his chin, leaning back into his chair.

            “Joe?” Eddie asks, “What’s the matter?”

            “Just thinking…” Joe answers, “Tell me, do you see anything weird in this video?”

            “Besides the men running around in tights and spandex?” Eddie smirks.

            “No,” Joe sighs, rubbing at a spot on his forehead, “I mean, do you see anything odd with Barry working with Batman?”

            “You mean besides the attitude shift?” Eddie shrugs, “I mean, he wasn’t too keen working with him in the past but he must have grown on him.”

            Eddie realizes that must have been the wrong thing to say, judging by the dark look that passed across Joe’s face.

            “Why don’t you just tell me,” Eddie suggests, “Instead of having me guess everything that isn’t right?”

            Joe sighs. “It’s just…” Joe starts, “I think something’s up with this partnership.”

            “You think Batman’s in on whatever going’s on?” Eddie interrupts, “That doesn’t seem right. Would make no sense as to why he _helps_ Flash put down the bad guys, or how he saved him even when he didn’t have to. It’s like Barry’s safety is his top priority!”

            “Exactly,” Joe stops him, “Does that seem just like a regular partner to you?”

            Eddie rolls his eyes, “No Joe, it sounds like-oh… _oh_.”

            “Yeah, oh,” Joe says.

            “And I thought I was just joking…”

            “What?”

            Eddie blanches, realizing the vocalization of his thoughs.

            “Out with it boy,” Joe threatens, “Or the whole department gets to hear what _My Heart Will Go On_ sounds like when played on a clarinet-“

            “Alright, alright,” Eddie gives in, “I swear, I wish I never went to that godforsaken Band Camp.” He takes a deep breath. “So,” Eddie drawls, “When Barry was trapped in that Mirror World, I got to talking to Batman and… well, _joked_ that he had a crush on the Flash. I thought his response was because I caught him off guard, not that I actually got in on the nose. Oh, and then I told him Barry has a crush on him…”

            “You did what?”

            “I thought I was being funny!” Eddie defends, “It’s not my fault guys from Gotham just get instantly infatuated with Barry!”

            “On top of everything going on,” Joe sighs, “This is the worst.”

            “Hey, don’t act like that, Joe,” Eddie tries to smile, “I mean, we could be wrong? We don’t actually talk to the Batman that much. Besides, Barry would probably know if Batman’s getting a little _too_ forward.”

            “If only he’d talk to us,” Joe snarks, “Then we could at least get a little more clarity on the whole situation.”

            “At least Oliver and Felicity are here,” Eddie points out, “they’ll probably help.”

            “That’s what I’m hoping,” Joe says, “not only with this Batman situation but also with Barry. How can we apologize if he leaves whenever I enter the room?”

            “Strap him down and force him to listen to us?” Eddie jokes.

            Joe snorts. “Even then,” he sighs, “Batman would probably come and save him, too.”

            “You’re probably right…” Eddie trails off, “It’d suck to end up on the wrong side of that guy.”

            “Wonder what’ll happen to Wayne then if Batman _does_ have a crush though?” Joe asks aloud.

            Eddie laughs, “I’d pay to see that fight!” 

* * *

 

            Oliver hasn’t felt like the third wheel in a long time. Barry and Bruce remind him how awful it can be.

            ‘ _I’m pretty sure I should call Diggle and apologize after all this_.’

            They’re sitting in the outside section of a restaurant, Oliver confined to a personal section of Hell on one side of the table while Barry and Bruce sit too close to be comfortable on the other side.

            They finished their meals, the crumbs resting on the plates in front of them. Their glasses sweat under the hot sun as Barry and Bruce take turns telling even more stories about their time together.

            “…I can’t tell you how many shirts he’s ruined by spilling coffee on them-“

            “I’m not that clumsy-“

            “Only with coffee,” Bruce smirks, taking a sip from his drink, “I swear I’ve had to throw away at least five of my shirts because the stains were too disastrous to fix.”

            “At least you can afford extra shirts,” Barry smiles playfully, “If I spilled all those drinks on myself I’d be forced to go shirtless.”

            “Not a _bad_ thought…”

            Oliver wants to take one of the arrows from his trunk and run it through his ears so he doesn’t have to hear this mush.

            ‘ _Wouldn’t be the first deaf archer, either,_ ’ Oliver thinks, ‘ _I’d still shoot like a hawkeye_ …’

            He blinks, noticing two pairs of eyes on him.

            “My bad,” Oliver apologizes, “did you ask me something?”

            Barry shoots him a flat look while Bruce continues on like nothing happened.

            “It’s okay,” he smiles, “I just asked what brings you here to Central City? Little out of the way from Star, isn’t it?”

            “I haven’t been to Star for some time,” Oliver explains, “Been on a long vacation with my girlfriend, Felicity. After everything going on there and in our lives, we thought we deserved a break.”

            “I heard,” Bruce continues, “Star City has gotten dangerous in recent years. Like someone put a bulls-eye on its back. At least it has someone like Batman looking after it…”

            “I wouldn’t say he’s _like_ Batman,” Oliver takes his own sip, “Arrow’s better.”

            “Doesn’t explain why he’s been out of the game, then,” Bruce raises a brow, “All I hear about from Star City are reports on Black Canary and Speedy.”

            “Wouldn’t say Batman’s doing any better,” Oliver challenges, “having to chase after bad guys that escaped from Gotham to come here-“

            “Wow, will you guys look at that,” Barry breaks in, causing the two men to turn, “that dog is standing on his hind legs. How adorable!”

            “He sure does look like an Ace, Barry,” Bruce smiles at his boyfriend.

            Barry looks away, smiling. But his eyes are shooting daggers at Oliver. Oliver winces and leans back a bit.

            “So… Bruce,” Oliver tries a different angle, “what brought you to Central City?”  
            “Business,” he explains, “I wanted to check in on some assets I had over here in Central. Then, I ran into Barry. So now I’ve been splitting my time between Gotham and Central while trying to build up profits here.”

            “Doesn’t sound like you’ve been splitting your time equally between the two cities,” Oliver says.

            “What can I say?” Bruce shrugs, “There are things here that demand more of my interest and attention.”

            He takes another sip, his eyes looking over the rim and right at Oliver. The blue eyes had sharpened, darkening. Letting Oliver know that there’s more than the surface to what he says. The edge is back from before, and it puts Oliver on high alert. The clouds shifts, and it causes the awning to cast a shadow across Bruce’s face. The prickling sensation of familiarity plays even harder within Oliver’s mind.

            “Huh,” is all Oliver can say.

            “If you’ll excuse me,” Bruce rises, “I have to use the bathroom. I’ll be back.” He kisses the top of Barry’s head, ruffling it before walking away. Barry watches him leave with hearts in his eyes.

            Oliver kicks him from under the table.

            “Ow!” Barry rubs at his bruising shin, “What was that for?”

            “To bring you back down to Earth,” Oliver rolls his eyes, “don’t worry, you’ll heal.”

            “Still,” Barry complains. He stops however, when he notices the expression on Oliver’s face. “What’s wrong?” he asks.

            “Just thinking,” Oliver tells him, “so you said you met Bruce Wayne when?”

            “A few days before Iris left,” Barry thinks back, “officially, when I went to investigate the robbery at one of his warehouses-wait, _why_ are you asking?”

            “Curious,” Oliver purses his lips, “that’s when you met him?”

            “Oh my God,” Barry grumbles, shaking his head, “not you, too!”

            “Not me too what?”

            “You’re acting just like the rest of them!” Barry continues, “Joe, Eddie, Caitlin, Cisco… why are you all looking for the worst in him!”

            “So that’s why you’ve been acting so weird,” Oliver realizes, “Look, Barry, I’m- _we’re_ \- not _trying_ to find anything bad about him-“

            “Yes you are!” Barry argues, “it’s like you can’t trust me enough to make the right decision!”

            “Barry, it’s not, I mean” Oliver explains, “I can’t explain the rest of them, but to me, Wayne just sets off all these… red flags.”

            Barry mouth sets itself into a fine line.

            “We care about you,” Oliver continues, “You can ask us all you want to stop but if we think something might be off, we don’t want you getting hurt.”

            “I can look after myself!”

            Oliver has more to say, but he spots Bruce coming back out of the corner of his eye. He shoots Barry a small look telling him that they’ll talk later just as Bruce gets back to the table.

            “Sorry to cut this short,” he says, looking at Barry, “I got a call from work. Even though I told them I was taking today off, they still need me.”

            “It’s okay,” Barry tells him, squeezing his hand, “just text me after.” Bruce smiles, leaning down to give Barry a quick kiss. Oliver might have his suspicions, but even he can tell how tender Bruce treats Barry, and how genuine it is. Bruce turns to Oliver.

            “Nice seeing you again,” Bruce says, “hopefully we can talk more before you leave?”

            “I’d like that,” Oliver smirks.

            Bruce grabs his suit jacket and exits.  Oliver turns to Barry.

            “Barry-“

            “Waiter!” Barry calls the guy over, “Check please.”

            “You can’t give _me_ the cold shoulder, too, y’know,” Oliver grumbles, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

            “I can, too,” Barry tells him, taking the receipt to glance at it, and throwing a wad of bills into the hands of the waiter. He gets up and starts to leave, Oliver hot on his heels.

            “You’re acting like a child,” Oliver says.

            “So what,” Barry sticks his tongue out, “I can do that sometimes.”

            “Not when your friends have legitimate concerns about your personal life!”

            “Listen,” Barry turns on him, “It’s called a personal life for a reason. He treats me well, and yeah, he might have some skeletons in his closet-don’t we _all_? Shouldn’t I wait to hear his side of the story before I make any decisions?”

            They stare at each other for a long time. It’s interrupted, however, when Oliver’s cell blares to life. He answers it.

            “Yeah,” he says, “Felicity-“ He’s cut off, his girlfriend on the other line speaking over him. He nods for a few minutes before he hangs up with a “Okay, thank you.”

            “Tricksters?” Barry asks.

            “Yeah,” Oliver nods, “They were able to get a lock on the charges’ chemical signals. They’re somewhere near the docks.”

            “Let’s get going then,” Barry turns, “hope you can get there okay.”

            Barry leaves Oliver in his dust. 

* * *

 

            The warehouse is large, from what Oliver can see. He parks his car behind old freight container, climbing out of the vehicle with bow in hand. Oliver looks around, trying to see if there’s anything out of the ordinary.

            “There’re no traps around the perimeter.”

            “Christ!” Oliver jumps, turning to see Barry standing there in full costume. The speedster shoots him an unimpressed look.

            “You took too long,” Barry shrugs.

            “If you don’t recall,” Oliver starts to stride forward, “I had to get here without super-speed.”

            “Serves you right-“

            “Can we just, put a pause on the fighting,” Oliver asks, “at least until these two clowns are down.”

            Barry sighs, “Alright.”

            Oliver nods, lifting his bow and firing it into the air. The arrow lodges itself onto the roof, and allows the archer to climb up. Barry takes a short cut and runs up the side of the building and onto the roof.

            “Felicity,” Oliver speaks into his earpiece, “any more info on those explosions?”

            “The traces are faint,” Felicity says, “but it’s where it stops. So they _have_ to be here.”

            “They are,” Barry announces, nodding his head towards a hole in the roof. Oliver walks over to peek in, and sees the elder Trickster’s colorful form in the middle of the rusting structure.

            “But where’s-“

            “What took you so long?”

            The two heroes quiet down, watching as the younger Trickster leads a man into the hideout with a bag on his head.

            “He put up a fight,” Axl explains, rubbing his bruising jaw, “Didn’t expect someone like _him_ to be so feisty-“

            “Doesn’t matter,” James waves off, moving forward, “He’s here and that’s all that matters.”

            James grips the mystery man’s arm, pushing him onto a crate. His wrists are bound, but he still tries to kick out at his captors.

            “You’re right, son, he is feisty,” James laughs, “I like that in a man.”

            James punches the man in his face. Oliver and Barry wince.

            “Too bad I _don’t_ like that in a prisoner.”

            “Can I punch him, too pops? Can I?”

            “No, son,” James says, “if we rough him up too much, we won’t get all the money for the ransom. And he’s got _a lot_ of it.”

            He pulls the bag off the man’s head, and Barry has to stifle a gasp. 

            Bruce Wayne looks up at the father-son duo with a black eye and a bleeding lip. He spits the blood out onto the father’s bright jacket.

            “If that’s how you punch,” he smirks, “I’d hate to hear you tell a joke.”

            James’s eyes twitch.

            “Listen, pretty boy,” James leans in close, “I’d watch your mouth. We’ve got some interesting new _toys_ that we’d just _love_ to test on you.”

            Bruce smiles, “I’d like to see you try.”

            “I wouldn’t.”

            All three turn towards the sound of the new voice. Standing under a bright stream of light, Flash and Arrow stand proud and tall, ready for a fight.

            “Ah,” Trickster smiles, “look at the symbolism here, my son. How _sickening_.”

            “Makes my stomach, turn,” Axl laughs, clutching at his stomach.

            “Let me help you with that, then,” Arrow smiles, launching an arrow at the younger Trickster, sending him flying backwards. James turns towards his son, only to be knocked the other way by an oncoming Speedster.

            “It’s time to put you two back behind bars where you belong,” Flash says, holding James up against a wall.

            “How about I send you where you belong, Flash,” James grits, “a _six-foot hole_.”

            Barry is knocked backwards. He looks at James Jesse to see him standing a few inches taller. He bounces on his heels, now springs.

            “What’s this?” Flash asks.

            “Just a little present from the people who asked us to steal those bombs,” James explains, jumping forward, “really _crushing_ isn’t it?” He jumps, and starts come fall towards the Flash. The Flash sees the spikes just in time to roll out of the way.

            Over with Axl, Arrow and he are now fighting: bow versus bow. However where the Arrows can fire arrows, Axl’s is just a staff. It doesn’t mean the weapon still doesn’t have surprises of it’s own.

            The two weapons strike, and their wielders slide them down so their faces can get closer.

            “From the way you’re holding that thing,” Arrow smirks, “I’d have to say you’re new to the weapon.” He shifts his weight, using the other end of the bow to slide up and hit Axl on the chin, sending him back.

            “Maybe,” Axl wipes away the blood from his mouth, “but I think I know how I can even the playing field.”

            Arrow’s about to come down hard on the criminal, only to stop, suddenly, when Axl places the tip of the staff in Arrow’s field of vision.

            “Wha-“

            _BOOM!_

            Confetti flies out of the metal end, blowing itself into Arrow’s face. He backs away, dropping his bow. He swipes a hand across his face, wiping away the little papers that have stuck to his face and blowing away the once that snuck their way into his mouth.

            He looks down at his hand, only for it to look strange and warped.

            Arrow’s eyes widen. “What did you do?”

            “I told you,” Axl laughs, leaning on his weapon, “I _evened_ the playing field. The confetti was laced with a hallucinogen… having _fun_ yet?”

            Arrow stares at both hands now, watching as they twist and turn in bright colors. He snorts.

            “Weird…” he whispers under his breath.

            Axl chuckles. He swings his bow and sends the Arrow falling on the ground, still giggling.

            Back with Flash and James, the Scarlet Speedster is spending his time dodging the elder Trickster every time he falls back to the ground.

            “I haven’t had this much fun,” Trickster laughs, “since I blew up that school bus filled with senior citizens!”

            He lands right behind Flash and punches him, sending the hero onto his front. Flash spins around, to see James fast approaching. He closes his eye and-

            _Thwack!_

Flash looks up to see nothing blocking his view of the roof.

            “Ooo, drat!”

            James’s cries draw Flash’s attention, and the Fastest Man Alive looks to his right to see the villain trapped in a net, wriggling around on the ground.

            Flash turns, expecting to see Arrow, only to find Bruce Wayne holding the bow. His binds have been cut, the rope hanging from his wrists. He lowers the weapon as he moves forward.

            “I spent a few years studying archery myself,” Wayne shrugs at the Flash, “I’m lucky I picked the right arrow.”

            The explanation sits uneasy in Flash’s stomach, but he has no time to process it all before the moment is ruined.

            “More like _unlucky_.”

            Bruce falls, the hit from Axl knocking him unconscious. This makes the Flash see red.

            He springs into action, running forward. Axl grips the staff, holding it in a battle-ready position. He doesn’t get to use it, however, as the Flash spins around him too fast. Too distracted to know where the Flash may hit, Axl isn’t ready for when the punch actually lands, sending the Trickster flying backwards, now unconscious as well.

            Flash skids to a stop, the dust pooling around his feet. He stares at Axl, making sure he’s really down for the count, when nearby laughter disrupts him.

            He looks over at where the Arrow lays, bruised, but giggling at nothing. All of his arrows have spilled out around him. Flash moves over to him and drags him upright.

            “Woah, Flash,” Arrow gasps, “what happened to your ears? They’re like… like lightning!” He continues laughing even more.

            From the dilation in his pupils, Flash can tell what easily happened to the Arrow. He rolls his eyes, but grips the other hero and vibrates his body at high speeds. It takes a few seconds, but Flash stops when he thinks the drug has run its course. Oliver blinks back up at the Flash, eyes returning to normal.

            “You good?”

            Oliver rubs at his head, “…Yeah…”

            Flash nods, only for his eyes to flit towards more groaning. He lets Arrow get up on his own, moving towards Bruce. He’s still out cold, but he’s making sounds.

            Sirens echo in the distance.

            “Police?” Arrow asks, “Felicity-“

            “Wasn’t me,” she says, “I only alerted Joe. I think he brought the cavalry.”

            Oliver sighs. “Come on, Flash, we need to get out of here.”

            Flash ignores him, swiping at the dried blood near Bruce’s lips.

            “ _Flash_.”

            Flash looks up. He looks back at Bruce Wayne and, at super speed, gives him a quick peck on his forehead. He lays him back down and follows Arrow out of the warehouse just as the police enter.

            From where he lies, Bruce smirks.

* * *

 

            “I have my rights you pigs! Get your-get your hands off of me!”

            From atop a nearby roof, the heroes watch as the police drag the Tricksters into an awaiting van. One of the police officers pulls out a muzzle and ties it over Trickster’s mouth, shutting him up affectively. Axl stifles a laugh, only for it to turn into a groan as his father kicks him in the shin.

            “That was tougher than usual,” Barry sighs, “Normally their gags are low-budget and predictable. I wonder who supplied them with those weapons.”

            “Well, whoever it was,” Felicity says in his ear, “they’re the same people who have the bombs.”

            “We’ll have to find them at another time,” Barry says, “we’ll be back at STAR to discuss our next step in a few.”

            “Roger that!”

            She cuts the line.

            Barry turns to Oliver, “Alright, so should we-“

            He stops, the look on Oliver’s face setting Barry on edge.

            “What?”

            “You’re playing a dangerous game, here,” Oliver starts.

            “I don’t know what you’re implying,” Barry lies.

            “Yes, you do,” Oliver stalks forward, “you need to get a control of your feelings.”

            “He was in danger, Oliver!” Barry defends, “I couldn’t just leave him there-“

            “That’s not what I’m talking about.”

            He and Barry stare at each other once more, only this time Barry is the one to look away first.

            “He could have waken up, Barry,” Oliver starts, “and how would you have been able to explain to him why you did what you did.”

            “I-I would have-“

            “You would have had to tell him the truth, Barry,” Oliver continues, “that you’re the Flash.”

            “Would that be such a bad thing?”

            Oliver pauses.

            “Have you been thinking about this?” he asks.

            “Maybe,” Barry grumbles. He sighs, “We’ve been spending so much time together, and sometimes I have to run off without an explanation and-I hate for him to let his mind wander. What he might think. And, And I don’t want to lose him now when I might actually be in-I… I really care for him, Oliver.”

            Oliver watches Barry as he gives his argument. He thinks long and hard before he says anything. He places a comforting hand on Barry’s shoulder.

            “Barry,” he starts, “I know that, in the end, this is your call. Just, please, hear me out before you say anything. Your secret identity, in the wrong hands, could be very dangerous. And I’m not saying that Bruce’s hands are the wrong ones, it’s just-he’s _hiding_ something. Something big. You might want to wait until whatever that is, is out in the open.”

            “You’re just saying that-“

            “Maybe I’m not!” Oliver argues, “Maybe I care about you, like everyone else does. And maybe I’m not _blinded_ by infatuation so I can be objective about the entire situation.”

            Barry quiets down.

            “What he’s hiding might not be anything important. And maybe we’re all blowing it out of proportion. But… when I met him earlier, I saw something in his eyes. Something I’ve seen before… in my own eyes. He’s got demons, Barry; they haunt him. You just need to decide if your relationship will be strong enough to handle them before you do anything big.”

            Oliver starts to walk away.

            “I’m heading to STAR,” he tells Barry, “please, consider what I said before joining us.”

            He swings away towards his car.

            Barry stands frozen, rooted to the spot. He lets Oliver’s words wash over him, considering them very carefully.

            He moves towards the edge of the roof just as Bruce Wayne exits the warehouse. His boyfriend is walking towards the ambulance, only to stop. He turns in Barry’s direction, and for a second their gazes are locked.

            It’s strange, the spark that flashes between them.

            However, it’s over just as swiftly as it began. He continues towards the vehicle, getting into the back. With him, the last of the police stream out.

            ‘ _Bruce_ …’ Barry thinks, ‘ _Is there something you aren’t telling me?_ ’

* * *

 

            “So we still have to keep an eye out for any explosions?”

            Joe drags the sigh out from his body in response to this new information. Oliver casts him a sympathetic glance.

            “Unfortunately, yes,” Oliver says.

            “And we take it you’ll be long gone before then,” Caitlin smiles sadly, “won’t you?”

            “Sorry,” Felicity apologizes, “We’d love to stay, but we have an appointment to keep in Coast City. But from what I’ve heard you guys won’t be totally alone in this.”

            The group shrugs.

            “And it’s not like it wasn’t in capable hands before, either,” Oliver tacks on.

            “You’re right, Oliver.”

            Everyone turns to where Barry stands in front of the doors. Eddie, Joe, Caitlin, and Cisco hold their breath at his entrance.

            “This city has people who care about it looking after them,” he walks further in, “sure, they might go a little overboard… but it’s only because they care.”

            “Wait,” Cisco is the first of the group to speak, “Is this a metaphor for forgiveness, or are you being real right now?”

            Barry smiles, “Why can’t it be both?”

            Everyone releases their collective breaths.

            “We’re sorry too, Barry,” Joe says, “We didn’t mean to make you upset. If we had suspicions we should have come to you first instead of making our own judgments without _all_ the facts.”

            “Thanks Joe,” Barry says, “I appreciate that. I get how you all care about me, and I really appreciate it. It’s nice to have a family that feels so strongly about you it borders on smothering.”

            “It’s what we do best, Barry!” Cisco throws his arms up, “Now group hug!”

            He and Caitlin toss themselves into Barry first, with Joe dragging Eddie to complete the gesture. They pull away after a very long minute.

            “Now, I hope you all will get the chance to know him better,” Barry announces, “I understand I’ve been spending more time with him than with any of you, so I’d like to rectify that as soon as possible.”

            “If that’ll make you happy, Barry,” Joe smiles, “we’ll do it.”

            “I for one really want to meet him,” Felicity interrupts, “Especially since I want to compare billionaires.”

            “Felicity…” Oliver rolls his eyes.

            “Don’t worry,” Felicity smiles, “I’m sure you’re better.” She pecks him on the cheeks.

            “I’m glad you want to meet him,” Barry smiles, “Because I made a reservation for four tomorrow night. Still be in Central that long?”

            “I think we can stay for that,” Felicity smiles, moving forward to loop her arms with Barry’s, “now come with me. Because of all the excitement of today we never properly got to talk!”

            She drags him into the medical area to the amusement of everyone else around him.

            Barry sighs, happy nonetheless. He feels warm inside, knowing that the tension has finally resolved itself. Yet no matter how hard he focuses on Felicity and the conversation, he can’t put his mind at ease.

            Oliver’s words struck too hard, and Barry doesn’t know when everything will quiet back down.

            If it may ever do so again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I put all my pain and my love into this chapter, like all the ones before (this just had a special dose of pain) and I will continue to do so. I wrote down chapter summaries for the rest of the story so the ideas will flow easier from now one.  
> Next time: Back to Metropolis and Iris!!!
> 
> And if you liked this chapter, leave a kudos and/or (but mostly and) comments!
> 
> Until next time!


	12. Busy? Busy.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back in Metropolis, Iris feels she's really living life to her fullest. However, what happens when a forgotten promise rears its head? What will Iris discover about herself, and what will she do on that journey?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Howdy folks! I'm sorry it took a little over a month for this chapter. Writing Iris stuff is hard. Honestly. And I always say I will try to churn more chapters out for all of you because I know how much you all love this story. But I take my time because I want to get it right for you and for me. I need my stories to *click* into place and some days I could be writing and it takes forever for a scene to *click* the way I want it to.  
> And I appreciate all the people who wait for me to post. I love to give people in this ship some material because there is so few. So if you have any story ideas about BatFlash (Barry Flash) then I encourage you to try! The reason I started this story was because I felt this ship didn't have enough stories and I crazy love it. And I love that I was able to get a lot of you people on this ship too. So I encourage you to add to it. If you have an idea, a situation you want to read about, you might not be alone. You might have the next great story idea in your heads and I say you should go for it!  
> Now onto the story!

            The dial turns under Iris’s hand, bringing the pot down from its boiling. The water bubbles and sizzles, boiled to the right temperature for the pasta inside. She’s whistling a happy tune, picking the pot up with kitschy potholders. She turns towards the sink, dumping the contents into a strainer. Finally, she turns the cold water of her faucet onto her meal, turning away when the steam becomes too much.

            Iris feels content.

            Her time in Metropolis has been long, but it feels so short. It’s been a roller coaster, with its highs and lows, its twists and turns; even a few surprises. Sometimes, she thinks back to when she first came to the bustling city and shocks herself with how long ago it was. To her, it feels like only yesterday.

            Each memory she’s made in this city wraps itself around her, replaying constantly when a quite settles around her. Each day it’s something new, set off by a different trigger.

            The steam starts to fade, but its damage is done. Iris can already start to see her hair start to frizz. She rakes a few fingers through her hair, cursing.

            ‘ _It takes so long to get it like this…’_ Iris thinks, ‘ _And we can’t all be master braiders…_ ’

            _“That did not take you ‘only a few minutes’.”_

_Clark looks away sheepishly, pushing his glasses up. He pats at his hair, where small rows have taken the place of his usual messy hair. He smiles, dimples showing off in the sunlight._

_“Honest,” he starts, “probably fifteen… twenty minutes maybe? I’ve got quick hands.”_

_“Those rows look too good though,” Iris whines._

_Clark chuckles, “Thank my Ma. She was the woman everyone in Smallville went to when they wanted their hair done. She did my hair, my friends’ hair, **her** friends’ hair. Hell, she did my Pa’s hair as a joke one day, laughed my ass off! Poor man, got a sunburnt scalp by the day’s end: didn’t even know what she did.”_

_“That’s hysterical!” Iris laughs, head thrown back. It takes a couple of beats, but she calms down enough to continue. “I wish my dad could do rows. Bless his heart though, he could take apart and assemble a gun in under a minute yet he couldn’t get the hang of making rows.”_

_“It’s not that hard, Iris,” Clark smiles brighter, “maybe one day I can come over and help you out? Especially since it’s getting hotter these days. S’why I did mine.”_

_“I’ll take you up on that offer,” Iris laughs again._

“Maybe I’ll have him do it tomorrow during lunch,” Iris hums to herself, picking the colander up and putting it on the cooling stove. She steps away, moving towards the fridge. She opens the door, plucking the containers of leftover chicken, cheese, and the pesto sauce. She scoops it all towards the pasta, remembering last minute to get a bowl.

            In no time she has her meal in front of her. She picks the bowl up and places it on the nearby table, taking a seat herself. The cutlery and drink were already waiting for her, and with the bowl it was now complete.

            She takes a bite, savoring the satisfying taste of a good meal.

            She digs in with no further ado, tearing into the meal like a woman whose hunger has taken control.

            Her day was hectic, but enjoyable. She laughs to herself, mouth stuffed, remembering a scene just before lunch with Lois.

            _“Are you trying to kill my story?”_

_“I-I’m sorry, but-“_

_“There’s no ‘buts’ in this business. I need these prints in ten minutes if we want to get this story in at 6 o’clock! And if we miss that window, Channel 52 is going to swoop in and steal it from us! And if that happens do you know where you’ll be? Out trying to find a new job!”_

_The young girl whimpers before nodding, walking away. She passes Iris, tears pooling, scurrying towards the elevator and down to the photo lab. Iris gets up, leaning on the doorjamb while Lois sighs, rubbing her temples._

_“Kind of harsh, don’t you think, Lois?”_

_Lois shoots Iris a glare. “That was me being nice,” Lois bites, “Especially since this is the 5 th time she’s made the same mistake!”_

_Iris shakes her head. “We can’t find anyone as good as Jimmy…”_

_Lois sighs, head dropping. “I know,” she says, “I understand why he moved to National City, it’s such a better offer! Especially with ol’ Cat at the helm… But still…”_

_“I miss him too,” Iris moves closer, sitting across from Lois. She grabs at her boss’s hand, giving it a squeeze._

_“God, kid,” Lois sniffles, squeezing back, “I got to be on camera soon. Don’t make me ruin my make up.”_

Iris finishes her meal with a satisfied smile. She feels warm, remembering that stolen moment before Lois had to take the new pictures and head down to shoot. Iris went along with her, food in hand, ready to take her lunch break with her close friend.

            She picks up her bowl and throws it into the sink. She starts toward her living room, only to shiver when a cold wind blows through. Iris turns towards an open window. She rubs her arms, moving forward, and closes the window.

            Still cold, she heads towards her room.

            Iris is about to open her closet when she sees something on her bed. She moves closer, and smiles.

            Strewn across the comforter was a sweater, the logo for MIT in bright white letters, maroon fabric making up the rest of the article of clothing. Iris picks it up, bringing it closer to her nose. She inhales, breathing in the smell of her boyfriend.

            _“Are you sure you don’t want to come?”_

_Iris watches John as he slowly gets dressed. She’d help him, but she’s in a state of un-dress at the moment, hidden beneath the soft covers of her bed. She bites her lip and smiles, playing with her hair._

_“I’d love to,” Iris starts, “but I have to stay at the office late tonight. Clark wants me to help him with a few things so I’m not going to get home until, like, nine.”_

_“Shame,” John smiles, slipping his shirt over his head, “I really wanted to show you off to my colleagues.”_

_“I’m not a prize you know,” Iris rolls her eyes._

_“I know,” John moves in, dropping his sweater at the foot of her bed. He sits on the edge, facing her. He leans in close, and closer, until his lips are on hers. John keeps his lips pressed to Iris’s, and she responds with a similar heat. They spend a few moments wrapped up in each other until John pulls away. He smiles, with stars in his eyes looking at her._

_“I want them to know how lucky I am you even stand next to me.”_

_He leaves her speechless, smirking out the bedroom door and the apartment,_

            She slips the material over her frame. It only serves as a reminder, the memory warming her more than the sweater ever could.

            She walks towards her living room now, collapsing on the old couch that came with the apartment. She’s about to turn on her television when she notices her phone on a nearby stand. She goes to pick it up.

            _1 Missed Call_

            “Dad…” she smiles, recognizing the number. She turns, leaning on the stand while she redials.

            It rings for a little bit, Iris already preparing tidbits to tell her father, when on the fourth ring the other line picks up.

            “Hello?”

            It all leaves her head the second Barry picked up the phone.

            “Barry?”

            “…Iris?”

Like lightning, it strikes her. She feels the chill pound its way up through her spine. It all comes back to her.

            “Barry!” she continues, “What a surprise! Where-where’s dad?”

            “Joe?” Barry drawls, “He’s, um… _busy_. Had to go to the station with Eddie to go over a case.”

            “Is it a normal case?” Iris asks, “or more… _you know_.”

            Barry laughs. “No, it’s a regular murder-found a knife with prints and everything. They just have to go over the paperwork.”

            “Looks like you get a break then,” Iris walks away from the stand, standing in the center of the room. “So,” she continues, “what have you been up to?”

            He pauses. Iris can hear him stutter over the line. “It’s,” he starts, “Well-I’ve been _busy_.”

            “Busy?”

            “Busy.”

            She can tell there’s more to his ‘busy’ that he’s not saying. But before she can even ask he’s already turned the tables on her.

            “What about you?” he laughs, quick and awkwardly, “Metropolis boring? Want to come home?”

            “No, no,” Iris smiles, “It’s great. I actually met…” She trails off, her smile slowly fading.

            “You’ve met what?”

            John flashes to mind, and instead of the warm feelings she felt earlier all she can feel is a sense of dread.

            “I met,” Iris swallows, “some really cool people: totally fun and super nice. Made adjusting to Metropolis so much easier.”

            “Oh,” Barry sighs on the other end, “that all?”

            “Yeah,” Iris chuckles, just as awkward as Barry’s, “I guess my life isn’t as exciting as yours Barry. The only bad guys I have to fight are heavy traffic and a lonely bed. Or maybe the life of a superhero isn’t all that different from a civilian, right?” She laughs, but all she wants to do is slam her head into the wall, repeatedly. She’s making a fool out of herself, and from what she can tell from Barry’s silence, he knows she is too.

            “Well,” Iris starts, “I have to go now. Stay safe out there, Barry!”

            “O-okay? You do the same Ir-“

            She shuts it off before he could finish. She sighs, staring at the phone in her hands. She puts it down, feeling lost. She heads toward the nearest available space and does what she was planning to do: slamming her head into the wall. With each thud she goes over a different point of the phone call: each one worse than the last.

            But soon enough she gets stuck on the fact that she didn’t tell Barry about John. How she couldn’t. She froze, and then _lied_.

            She _lied_ to Barry.

            She did the very thing she called him out on.

            Her stomach is in turmoil.

            She stops hitting herself and flips around, sliding down to rest on the floor.

            ‘ _John_ …’

            Any semblance of warmth she could have had is now gone, and she feels empty. The last conversation she had with Barry replays in her mind now. Where she tells him all of what she planned to do in Metropolis. How she planned to sort out everything in her mind. About how she doesn’t know how she feels about Barry.

            ‘ _And what did I do?’_ Iris chuckles, darkly, ‘ _I fall for the first handsome face I saw_.’

            She picks herself up. She heads to her phone.

            She turns it off.

            She slips into bed.

            She goes to sleep.

            Barely.

* * *

 

            “Rough night?”

            Iris looks up from her computer with bleary eyes. Clark stands above her with a concerned look on his face and two cups of coffee in his hands.

            She sighs and scrubs at her face: “You could say that.” She reaches up and takes the coffee without another word. It’s slightly bitter, but she’s too tired to care.

            “You do realize that was Lois’s… right?”

            “I’m too tired to care.”

            Clark sighs, perching himself on her desk. “Alright,” he starts, “Spill. You look like you went a few rounds with Parasite and lost.”

            “Is it that obvious?” Iris sighs, throwing her head back.

            “Nah,” Clark smiles, “But I think I’ve gotten to know you pretty well.”

            Iris sits normally again. She looks up at Clark and puts. Clark rolls his eyes and crosses his arms in front of him.

            “Well?”

            Iris sighs one more time.

            “It’s just…” she starts, “I realized something last night.”

            “What’d you realize?”

            “That I’m an idiot.”

            “Iris-“

            “But I am!”

            “Iris,” Clark says, “You aren’t an idiot. What happened that made you think that?”

            Iris bites her lip. She looks away in thought. Her mind races, trying to decide how much she should tell Clark. She decides the bare minimum would be best.

            “Well…” Iris says, “Yesterday, I remembered something. Remembered something very important: a promise I made to a friend before I left for Metropolis.”

            “Doesn’t sound important if you just remembered it now,” Clark adds.

            “That’s the point!” Iris mutters, “I made this promise, and it’s like the second I got here I just threw it away and let myself be… _distracted_.”

            “Distracted?” Clark asks, “By what?”

            Iris doesn’t answer. Clark looks up, thinking. He takes his glasses off his face and starts to chew on the end, lost in thought. Iris stares at him, used to seeing him like this at his desk or talking to Lois.

            “You want my opinion?” he finally says, startling Iris out of her reverie.

            “Sure,” Iris breathes, leaning back, “I’ve exhausted myself thinking about what to do.”

            “This friend,” Clark starts, “You care about them?”

            “A lot,” Iris nods, “But maybe not enough… I don’t know.”

            “Well,” Clark continues, “if you care about this person, then you should honor your promise. Especially if you want to keep them as your friend.”

            Iris bites her lip once more. She thinks.

            ‘ _Keep my promise to Barry… but then that means I-_ ‘

            She stands abruptly, knocking Clark off her desk in shock.

            “Thank you Clark,” she says stiffly, “I need-I need to leave.”

            She takes the coffee with her, walking out towards the elevator briskly. She gets in.

            Just as the elevator doors close, Lois’s office door opens. She peers out, ready to call for Iris, only to see Clark scratching at his cheek in confusion.

            “Where’s Iris, Smallville?” Lois asks, then looks at his hands, “And where is my coffee?”

            “I…” Clark starts, only to droop his shoulders and sigh, “I dropped it. My bad.”

            “Yes,” Lois agrees, grabbing _his_ drink, “your bad. Now answer my first question.”

            “I think she took an early lunch,” Clark fills her in, “she’s got a lot on her mind. She asked me for advice but, I’m not sure if I gave her what she really needed. I didn’t _really_ understand what she was trying to tell me, anyway, so...”

            “At least you tried, Smallville,” Lois smirks, patting his shoulder, drinking his drink, “we can’t all be Superman.”

            The look Clark shoots her could melt steel beams.

* * *

 

            Iris stands with her fist raised, in front of John’s door. She’s been there for around five minutes, and in the past two the only things she had made up her mind to do was knock.

            She still hasn’t.

            After talking with Clark she went to go have a quiet walk to think things through.

            She ended up here.

            And now she’s still at war within herself on whether or not what she’s about to do is the right thing.

            _‘I can’t be doing this,_ ’ the rational side of herself argues, _‘I told Barry this trip was about me. How can I go back to Central City and give him the answer he needs. If I can go back at all…’_

 _‘You can’t help yourself, Iris,_ ’ the emotional side says, ‘ _this is what you want. Should that be a crime? When was wanting something for yourself, someone for yourself, ever been the wrong thing?_ ’

            ‘ _When it hurts someone else…_ ’ she thinks.

            She lowers her fist, shaking her head.

            ‘ _He won’t be home yet,_ ’ Iris thinks, turning ‘ _I should just leave and avoid him until-‘_

            “Iris?”

            John stands in front of her. He’s holding paper bags filled to the brim with groceries. He’s smiles, until he notices she doesn’t return it.

            “Iris?” he continues, placing a hand on her arm, “What’s wrong?”

            “Nothing,” she says, turning away, out of his grip. It’s a lie. They both know it.

            “Why don’t you come in,” John persists, “talk about it, over tea. I picked up your favorite.”

            Iris winces.

            “I can’t,” Iris whispers.

            “Can’t what?” John asks, concern showing clear on his face, “What can’t you do Iris?”

            “I can’t do this anymore.”

            John drops the bag of groceries in his arms. Iris can hear a few eggs crack and other items break. She tries to walk away, but John grabs her.

            “John, please-“

            “No, Iris,” he says, “ _I_ can’t… this, this can’t be happening.”

            “But it is,” she insists, pulling, “please don’t make this harder than it has to be.”

            “Is it something I did?” John asks, “Something I didn’t do?”

            “It’s not because of you-“

            “Then why?”

            She pulls free and shoots him a look that freezes him in his tracks. One tear has slipped past her tight mask and travels down her cheek.

            “Because _I_ have to.”

            She turns and sprints, heading down the staircase and leaving John rooted to the spot outside his door. It’s only when the spilt milk reaches his shoe does he realize he still has a life to live.

            But he’s not sure if it’s worth it now.

* * *

 

            _“You’ve reached Iris West, please leave a message after the-*BEEP*”_

            “Iris, it’s Lois, you didn’t come in after lunch and it’s already been an hour. I’m gonna need to know if you are gonna be coming in today? Please, pick up soon, kid. It’s a madhouse today.”

            _“You’ve reached Iris West, please leave a message after the-*BEEP*”_

            “Clark here. Iris, where are you? You didn’t come in yesterday and we need you today. There’s been a big break and we need all hands on deck. Lois might not admit it but she’s drowning in the work she has. Please, answer.”

            “ _You’ve reached Iris West, please leave a message after the-*BEEP*”_

            “Iris? Please, can you answer? I’ve called so many times, please, I know you don’t want to talk but, but I need to. I’m sorry if I kept you up last night. I didn’t leave. Not even when your neighbor threatened to call the cops. Something is wrong and I don’t want to leave you when you feel like-

            Iris throws her phone at the wall and it breaks apart. She sniffs, taking another swig of the wine bottle in her hands. At least four are pooled around her feet. Her hair is mussed and she has swashes of make-up on her face, too tired and sad to remove it all. She’s dressed in frumpy pajama pants and a comfortable hoodie. A movie plays on her television, but she doesn’t pay that much attention.

            There’s more knocking on her door.

            “Go away!” she shouts.

            “Kid, it’s me!” Lois shouts through the door, muffled, “Let me in!”

            “No!” she returns, taking one last swig of her wine before dropping it with the others. She gets up, swaying, and makes her way into the kitchen for more.

            “Kid! Kid!”

            Lois, on the other side of the door, sighs. She turns to Clark, who followed her to Iris’s.

            “I didn’t want to have to do this,” she sighs, rolling up her sleeves.

            When Iris comes back to her living room, Lois and Clark are in there. Clark is looking around, nervously, while Lois holds an empty bottle in her hands.

            “Boy is this pathetic.”

            Iris looks at the open door and then gapes at the two. “Did you break down my door?” she screams.

            The reporters finally notice the resident of the apartment.

            “What?” Lois asks, only to look at the door then back at Iris, “Oh, no kid, I used the key.”

            “Key?”

            “I made a copy when I leased the place for you,” Lois snorts, “you honestly thought I _didn_ ’t have one?”

            Iris shakes her head. “It doesn’t matter,” she slurs, “you need to leave.”

            “No,” Lois stands firm, “you missed two days of work. Two days that, unfortunately, happened to be very busy while we were _very_ understaffed.”

            “I’m sorry…”

            “Ep bup bup,” Lois chides, “not done! We were swamped. And you could have lost your job! Yet, I decided to go out on a limb and think, ‘well, maybe she got really sick? Like, so sick she couldn’t even answer the damn telephone!’ I will tell you Iris I am very disappointed to find you drunk on a Saturday afternoon.

            “Saturday?”

            “Yes!” Lois shouts, “Saturday!”

            “Whatever,” she scoffs, sitting back down and popping open the bottle, “you’re not my mother.”

            “Oh, that’s it young lady,” Lois huffs, “I did not come here to be sassed by some wino-oh give me that!”

            She reaches over to grab the bottle from Iris’s hands. Even for a drunk, she has some of her reflexes and wits about her. She latches on tight and fights Lois for the bottle.

            “No!”

            They struggle for a bit, until Lois looks back at Clark.

            “Well?” she asks, “You gonna stand there and look pretty or do you think you can help?”

            Clark rolls his eyes: “Since you asked so nicely.”

            Clark strolls over and, with ease, pries Iris’s fingers off of the bottle and places her back on the sofa. Lois catches her breath while Iris fights against Clark’s loose grip.

            “Now,” Lois starts, “is there a reason why you’ve turned into an even sadder version of my great aunt or do I have to call an end to this internship.”

            Iris stops struggling, but she doesn’t stop pouting. She huffs something under her breath.

            “What was that?” Lois asks.

            “I said I broke up with John!”

            This startles both Lois and Clark. This gives Iris an opportunity to break free. She stands opposite Lois on the other side of the bottle pile. She’s got her arms crossed and she’s turned away from her.

            “I’m sorry,” Lois shakes her head, “Are you more of a lightweight than I thought? Because it sounds like you just said that you and John-“

            “Broke up.”

            “Why!” Lois asks.

            “Clark told me to.”

            Lois rounds on him.

            “You told her to what?” Lois glares at the mild-mannered reporter. Clark gulps.

            “I-I didn’t,” Clark defends, “Honest!”

            “But you said I had to keep my promise!”

            “I didn’t know you had to break up with Dr. Irons to do so!”

            Lois rubs at the space between her brows while the other two argue. She whistles, bringing the two to a halt.

            “Alright, I feel like I’m missing out on something,” Lois starts, “the only thing I understand is that Clark gave bad advice. But Iris, what was your problem.”

            Iris wobbles over to her sofa and collapses onto it. She pulls her legs up and hugs them. She stares at her knees instead of looking at Iris when she talks.

            “Before,” Iris says, “Before I came here, I had just broken off an engagement. I loved him… but I wasn’t _in_ love with him. And then, before I could even process everything, I found out a few… _things_. Like my childhood best friend being in _love_ with me! He seemed to think we were destiny. But again, I didn’t know if I was in love with him or just… cared, deeply. I couldn’t figure it out, especially since we’ve been each other’s lives since we were young. We grew up in the same house for most of our lives! I didn’t want to make another mistake like I almost made. So when you offered me that internship, I dove. I took it and told him that I’d take this time away to think about our relationship. Let me tell you what I haven’t done: exactly that. Now I feel horrible for having to lie about being in a relationship with John and _being_ in that relationship with John because-because not _once_ did I feel what I felt for Barry what I do for John. And I don’t know if that’s because I didn’t let myself be alone this whole time or if it’s something else, controlling my life and, and, and-“

            “Kid, kid! Calm down!” Lois sits next to her, rubbing Iris’s back. They sit in silence for a few minutes: Iris hiccups into the quiet space while Lois whispers soothing words to her. Clark stands there at a loss.

            “Look,” Lois says after awhile, “If you ask me, I say you kept your promise.”

            “Huh?”

            “You said you wanted to think about your relationship with this-Barry, was it? Well, you said it yourself. You feel a certain way with John you don’t with Barry. You haven’t thought of Barry since you’ve been here. Seems to me you know exactly where he stands to you.”

            “But-but-“

            “You’re overthinking it, kid,” Lois punches Iris on the shoulder lightly, “Ease up on yourself.”

            “How do I really know though,” Iris whispers, “How do I know which one is right?”

            “You don’t,” Lois shrugs, “You just choose whichever one makes you happier, and hope that the collateral damage is minimal. If you say this Barry really cares about you, he should be happy for you and move on himself.”

            “He… he should?” Iris says, more to herself than the others. It’s all starting to make sense.

            “Now you got to ask yourself,” Lois finishes, “which makes you happier?”

            Iris stands immediately.

            “I have to go find John.”

            She starts moving towards the open door. Clark grabs her again. She’s wriggling, but again Clark is stronger.

            “Let me go!” she whines, “I need to go see John!”

            “Later,” Clark tells her, “after you’ve gotten some sleep.”

            “But I made a mistake! I need to fix it!”

            “And he’ll understand, please, Iris-“

            “Noooo!”

            A cough has all three occupants turning towards the door.

            “Is this a bad time?”

            John stands at the entrance, hand splayed on the door. Clark drops his hold on Iris and she runs over to John, pouncing on him and hitting him with a powerful kiss that shocks, and delights him.

            They break for air a few moments later.

            “Not that I’m not happy, but,” John asks, “why the sudden change?”

            “I’ll tell you everything later,” Iris smiles, pulling herself closer, “but, long story short, I was an idiot.”

            “There you go again,” John smiles, “I don’t know if you know how that word works.”

            “Trust me on this one,” Iris laughs, “I think I got it right this time.” They resume kissing.

            Lois and Clark watch this scene with smiles on their faces.

            “Doesn’t this just melt _your_ heart Lois?”

            Lois turns on Clark.

            “Hey, Smallville, I happen to be a very caring individual,” she fires back, “You just don’t see it because I don’t show empathy for idiots.”

            “Lois, I-“

            “Oh my God,” Iris breaks the kiss to glare at her employees, “I’m trying to have a moment here. Can you please flirt elsewhere?”

            This shuts the two up and slaps blushes on both their faces. They start to make their exit.

            “Happy to have you back, kid,” Lois says, “Come to my place tomorrow for brunch, and I’ll catch you up on what you need for Monday.”

            “I’m glad you’re feeling better, Iris,” Clark smiles, “enjoy.”

            The two leave the apartment and leave the couple to their reunion. 

* * *

 

            “You don’t think I was flirting with you… do you Clark?”

            Lois and Clark are outside, walking back to Clark’s place from Iris’s. This question startles Clark, and he has to run to catch up with Lois, who continued even though he had stopped.

            “I don’t know, Lois,” he smiles, “it’s hard to tell when you’re flirting or when you’re just pulling on my pigtails.”

            “Oh, please, you’d know if I was flirting with you,” Lois laughs, “Because it would work.”

            “Would it?” Clark raises a brow in challenge.

            Lois lowers her own eyebrows in acceptance.

            “It’s never failed me before.”

            “Even if I happened to tell you I’m gay?”

            Now Lois is the one frozen. But at least Clark waits for her to return from the shock.      

            “What? Really?”

            “I’m kidding,” Clark laughs, “Although I did date a guy for, like, five months in college. Didn’t end well, though. But maybe… we could?”

            Lois looks at him. Notices the honesty in his eyes and the sincerity in his smile. She thinks back, on all interactions she’s ever had with him. In the end, she rationalizes, it’s never been that bad. Maybe it could be better if they did date?

            “Alright Smallville,” Lois loops arms with Clark, “Take me to dinner, your treat.”

            “I thought you were an independent woman?”

            “I am,” Lois smiles, “But I also know more about spending money than you. As in, never use your own if possible.” Clark rolls his eyes at her.

            “Is there anything else I should know?” Clark asks, smiling as well.

            “Yes,” Lois laughs, “if I ever find out who Superman is, I will dump you for him. I’ve told this to all my other boyfriends. Are you okay with this?”

            Clark’s smile turns into a full on grin.

            “You know what? I think I am actually.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Worth the wait? Please, leave a kudos and/or a comment! I really do enjoy reading them!
> 
> Also, as much as I love that Tyler Hoechlin was announced as Clark Kent, in my vision of the story, Clark Kent is a biracial (half-black, half-white) man. Just making it clear for anyone left confused by the story (his mom was black and his dad was white-both Kryptonian and adopted parents).


	13. Tilde Do Us Part

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barry tries to mend fences by having a family dinner, but will it all work out like he planned? We learn some new things about Bruce, and an uninvited guest drops by to ruin it all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everybody! Here's another one! I just started school again but I'm gonna try to keep up on my writing, so please stay tuned we're getting revved up here!

            The sound of the vacuum cleaner blares in the living room as Barry speeds through it, running it over any available surface. He’s concentrated on his task, so much so that he doesn’t hear when the machine seems to stop.

            “I almost forgot how much I hated that thing.”

            He startles, turning to find Joe standing by the outlet. He dangles the plug in his hands, an amused smirk on his face.

            “Joe!” Barry sighs, “I need to clean-“

            “You’ve spent over four hours ‘cleaning’,” Joe fires back, “I’m surprised you haven’t sucked up the rug with that awful thing.”

            “Four hours?” Barry’s eyes widen. He takes a look at the clock and nearly collapses. “Why didn’t you stop me?”

            “I tried,” Joe rolled his eyes, “I gave up when you turned that thing on for the third time.”

            “How,” Barry blushes, “how many times did I turn it on?”

            “I lost count after eight.”

            Barry looks away, scratching at the back of his head in embarrassment.

            Joe continues, however. “Thankfully _I_ made dinner,” he laughs, “since you were so… _distracted_.”

            “Sorry Joe,” Barry turns back to him, “I guess I’m a bit nervous.”

            “Should be,” Joe turns, “not every day you lead a man to his slaughter-“

            “Joe!”

            “I’m kidding!” he calls back, “Relax a bit, it’s just dinner.” He leaves it at that, heading up the stairs.

            Barry takes one last look at the vacuum cleaner before he speeds it back in the closet. After checking one more time that the place is spotless, he collapses on the couch with a long breath.    

            Since Barry woke up that morning he’s been wound tight, anticipation coiling in his gut over the coming night. It’s not the first time he’ll be having dinner with his friends and family, and it’s not the first time he’s having dinner with Bruce. But the two together sets all his nerves on edge.

            It didn’t help that the dinner idea wasn’t well received _at first_.

            _“Do we have to?”_

_Cisco whines, spinning in his seat. Barry rolls his eyes at his friend and leans on the machine that sits between them._

_“I thought you said you’d be more receptive to Bruce,” Barry starts, “And there’s going to be food! You like food!”_

_“Yeah,” Cisco says, “But I’m not going to be that hungry if I have to stomach you two together.”_

_Barry huffs, “And what’s that supposed to mean?”_

_“I think, what he means,” Caitlin cuts in, “is that you two give sugar a run for its money.”_

_Barry burns a bright red. He stutters his response, “We-I-I mean, we’re not that bad.”_

_“You totally are,” Eddie laughs from his own seat, chewing on some gum, “I had to schedule an appointment with my dentist because the last time I walked in on you two it gave me a cavity!” He cracks up at his own joke, and to Barry’s disappointment he sees Caitlin and Cisco hiding their own grins._

_“Real mature guys,” Barry chides, “I’m hurt.”_

_“You’ll recover,” Cisco waves him off, “fast, too.”_

_“Seriously?”_

_Caitlin, smiling, breaks from the game first. “What time do you want us there?”_

_Barry smiles at her, grateful she’s his **true** friend. “Bruce isn’t getting there until after 7, so if you guys want to come early it’s up to you.”_

_“We’ll be there,” Caitlin tells him, “We’ll **all** be there.”_

_“Ugh, fine,” Cisco throws his own two cents in, “but I’m gonna complain the whole time.”_

            The doorbell rings, causing Barry to fly off his seat. A set of knocks follows after the bell, urging more movement from the fastest man alive. He takes a look at the sweats he’s in and makes a dash for his closet. He changes into a fresh pair of khakis and a light blue button-down. He’s slipping on a pair of brown loafers when the doorbell repeats its chime.

            “I’m coming!” he shouts, more to Joe than to the guest. He speeds back down to the door and opens it before any more sounds could be made.

            Eddie has his finger hovering on the doorbell. He looks up when Barry opens the door.

            “Took _you_ long enough,” he jokes, walking in past Barry.

            “I was getting ready, Eddie,” Barry rolls his eyes.

            Eddie takes one long look at Barry and scoffs.

            “What?”

            “Nothing,” Eddie turns away, “Just… are you _sure_ you spent enough time getting ready?”

            “Ass,” Barry shoves at Eddie lightly. Eddie chuckles.

            “Anyone else coming,” Barry continues, looking out the door.

            “Uh, I think Cisco and Caitlin are coming together,” Eddie says.

            “No, I mean,” Barry closes the door behind him, “did you invite anyone?”

            “Why would I?” Eddie blinks, “I thought this was just a Team Flash thing.”

            Barry gapes at Eddie, “You mean, you didn’t even notice?”

            “Notice what?”

            “Patty!” Barry yells.

            “Patty?” Eddie balks, “Patty Spivot: the newest cop in our department? Why would she be here?”

            “I don’t know,” Barry rolls his eyes, “maybe because you would have invited her here. Like on a _date_.”

            “First of all,” Eddie starts, “I would not bring anyone on a first date to this crazy place. Secondly, why would I even be on a date with Patty in the first place?”

            Barry’s face shines with confusion. He stares at Eddie, surprised at how thick he is. After a few seconds he finds the strength to explain to Eddie what is very obvious.

            “Because she likes you!”

            Eddie’s eyes widen, and he pales. “W-what?” he gasps.

            Barry’s expression gets even more desperate. “You mean you haven’t noticed?” Barry asks, “It’s so obvious.”

            _Barry is exiting his lab, arms filled with results he was going to leave on Joe’s desk from a few cases. He plops them down, ready to leave, when shocks of blonde catches his attention._

_Eddie is walking towards his desk, followed by another policewoman. Barry’s seen her around from time to time, usually when there’s been a small accident. He’s heard from the usual office gossip she’s slowly taking Barry’s clumsiness crown. However, most of these falls happen to be whenever a certain detective is nearby._

_“I didn’t think the movie was that bad,” Barry can hear him tell her, “characters were decent enough even if there wasn’t any real plot.”_

_“Yeah but that one guy was just, he skeeved me out,” Patty cringes, “Like he was so creepy and people **liked** it. I don’t get that.”_

_“I didn’t like that at all,” Eddie smiles, “But then again a lot of people tend to ignore the abuse for whatever sick reasons they have.”_

_“Well, not everyone is like you, Detective Thawne,” Patty bats her eyes at him._

_Barry has to pause his own thoughts to realize the excessive blinking was directed at Eddie. He then takes in how close she is to him, and the way she has her arms tucked into her pockets like the detective._

_“Please, Patty,” Eddie laughs, “I told you to call me Eddie. We’re like the same age.”_

_“Right… Right…”_

_“I have to go,” Eddie grabs his suit jacket from his desk, “Promised Joe I’d meet him at this new donut place. Police work, you know.”_

_“I thought that was a stereotype,” Patty rolls her eyes._

_“It is,” Eddie nods, “Too bad Joe loves donuts.” He turns towards Joe’s desk and finally notices Barry. Luckily he’s too distracted to notice how badly Barry is making it look like he was busy doing something else besides eavesdropping._

_“Barry, are those files for Joe?” Eddie asks._

_“Yeah,” Barry nods, picking them back up and shoving them at Eddie, “Thanks!”  
            “Alright,” Eddie blinks. He wants to ask more, but he feels the vibration of another text and realizes Joe is getting impatient. Eddie turns back to Patty._

_“It was nice talking to you, Patty,” Eddie smiles, “stay safe out there.”_

_“You, too!” she calls back, “I mean, how dangerous is donut eating, but I mean you could choke-and if you do call I’m sure I’ll be glad to help! I mean, not help choking but help save you-I’m-I’m really good at the Heimlich and I-I should stop talking…”_

_Eddie thinks nothing of her oddness and exits via the elevator. Patty hangs her head before muttering to herself._

_Barry chuckles a bit, causing Patty to jerk her head up in his direction._

_Barry smiles in sympathy and pats her on the back._

_“It happens…”_

“I just thought I made her nervous,” Eddie explains, “that since we were the same age she might think I was one of those strict detectives who focuses too much on work. I didn’t think it was because she… she really does?”

            He looks at Barry from his seat on the couch, where they moved to while Barry was explaining how he knew. Barry nods and pats him on the back.

            “It happens…”

            There’s another doorbell, and Barry leaves Eddie to himself while he answers it.

            On the other side of the door, Cisco and Caitlin greet Barry with a freshly bought bottle of champagne in Caitlin’s hands.

            “Hey Barry!” Cisco launches in, hugging Barry. Barry only gets a short reprieve before Caitlin follows suit.

            “Caitlin! Cisco! How are,” he pauses, sniffing the air, “Are you guys drunk?”

            “Only slightly tipsy,” Caitlin smiles, “we kind of went to a few bars before stopping by.”

            “Why?” Barry asks.

            Cisco shrugs, “Why not!”

            The two make their way inside and seat themselves, each taking a place next to Eddie. He takes a look at the two and then at Barry who followed them in.

            “We could have come drunk?” he raises a brow.

            Cisco slaps his shoulder, “Not drunk!”

            “Only,” Caitlin hiccups, “Slightly tipsy.”

            “Still not right,” Barry shakes his head at the two, “Come on, I’m getting you some bread and water. Maybe we can get you back to some semblance of sobriety before Bruce gets here.”

            The scientists stay with Eddie while Barry makes his trek to the kitchen.

            Caitlin plays with Eddie’s tie while Cisco babbles about the latest television series he’s started. And that’s how Joe finds them when he makes it down the stairs.

            He takes one look at the scene and quirks a brow.

            “Did I come late to the party?”

            “No,” Barry answers, “these two just thought it would be fun to smell like the inside of a beer bottle.”

            “As long as it wasn’t any of mine,” Joe chuckles, “then I’m good.”

            Barry shoots his father a look as he passes the water and food to his friends. He lets them take it, seating himself on an armchair. Joe takes the only remaining seat. They take their time with their conversation. Each time Cisco and Caitlin seem to finish their glasses, Barry speeds it refilled, hoping that they’ll recover before dinner truly begins. Joe leaves from time to time to check on the food, plating it all around 8.

            “So, Barry,” Joe starts, pulling off the oven mitts, “where is your boyfriend?”

            “He should be here,” Barry checks his phone. He’s about to text when he hears the doorbell ring one final time. He bursts towards it.

            Barry opens the door, breathing a sigh of relief when it’s Bruce standing there. He’s dressed in a casual outfit for him, dark slacks and a button down, holding a Tupperware container.

            “Sorry I’m late,” he smiles, “Didn’t want to show up empty handed.”

            Barry smiles, grabbing at Bruce’s free hand to drag him inside. “It’s okay,” Barry tells him, “we were just about to start dinner.”

            “Great,” Bruce laughs.

            The two enter the living room to see only three of the four guests.

            “Where’s Cisco?” Barry asks, looking around.

            “He, uh, he had to use the bathroom,” Caitlin tells him, shifting her eyes around. Barry raises a brow and looks from her to Joe then to Eddie. No one looks him in the eyes. It’s then that he hears the telltale retching sound coming from the downstairs bathroom.

            “Great,” Barry sighs, “Just great.”

* * *

 

            “…so I walk in to see my Chief Financial Officer at my desk, his hands up a random woman’s skirt, pretending to be me,” Bruce laughs, “when my brain finally caught up to what was happening, I was more upset she believed him over anything else that happened. I think I spent the next two weeks making sure my face was plastered to any type of media available that when it all blew over I saw my face all over Gotham. This blew up in my face, too, because even though I was done with the news, they weren’t as willing to let me walk away.”

            The table laughs at Bruce’s story, each in their own way. Joe chuckles, mouth full of the final pieces of his steak. Eddie snorts into his wine. Caitlin hides her chuckle behind her water glass while Cisco laughs without abandon. Barry smiles, having already heard the story, and just watches as Bruce lights up the table.

            “So that’s why no matter what you do the cameras seem to spot it,” Eddie laughs.

            “Unfortunate consequences,” Bruce shrugs.

            “So tell me,” Joe leans forward, “Why haven’t they tracked you here?”

            “Probably because I’m not a household name here in Central like I am back in Gotham,” Bruce explains, “at least here all my holdings are either tied up in different names or standalone ventures. Whereas in Gotham, my family practically built that town.”

            “Must be hard to be away from home that often?” Caitlin asks.

            “It is,” Bruce nods, “but I find splitting my time between here and Gotham isn’t that hard. I make sure to go back and keep up appearances, go to galas and events, manage the company, and even spend some time with Dick-“

            Eddie chokes on his drink, drawing everyone’s attention. Joe slaps him on the back while Barry shoots him a bland look.

            “So-Sorry,” Eddie clears his throat, “Spend time with, uh-what?”

            “Dick Grayson, my ward,” Bruce smiles, “I adopted him a little over a year ago. He was part of a circus group known as Haley’s, traveled with them and his family, all acrobats. Unfortunately, when they came to Gotham, the town greeted them the only way it knew how and Dick was left without parents. I was there for their final performance and, well-I know how hard it is to lose both your parents that young. Took him in without a thought.”

            The table grows quieter with Bruce’s story. Barry smiles sadly at Bruce, taking his hand and squeezing it. He can see the faraway look in Bruce’s eyes and decides to act quick before the mood completely switches.

            “So, dessert,” Barry says, drawing the eyes towards him, “I can’t wait to see what you made. What was it again?”

            “Nothing that extravagant, I assure you,” Bruce blushes, returning to the moment, “just a family recipe for some flan. I thought it would be a nice treat for all of you.”

            “Wait, flan?” Cisco perks up, “I didn’t know that’s what we were having! I haven’t had flan since the last Ramon family reunion.”

            “Well then I hope you’re hungry,” Bruce smiles, “I spent a lot of time making it.”

            “You?” Barry raises a brow.

            “I… might have had help from Alfred,” Bruce blushes, “but I did do some things.”

            Barry smiles as Bruce as he fumbles towards the kitchen to grab the dessert. He returns with the Tupperware, lid off.

            “That looks delicious,” Cisco drools over the food, but stops himself. He casts a suspicious eye at the billionaire. “But,” he continues, “I’m pretty sure this is a Mexican dessert?”

            “You’d be correct,” Bruce smirks.

            “Then how could it be a _family_ recipe?” he leans forward, almost letting his tie fall into the leftover juices on his plate from his steak.

            “Because I’m Mexican?” Bruce snorts, “At least half, on my mother’s side.”

            “You are?’ Barry blinks at Bruce.

            “Yeah,” Bruce explains, “It’s-it’s not really talked about a lot in the news.”

            “It’s not?” Joe raises his own brow.

            “My mother’s family,” Bruce starts, “before they moved to Gotham, changed their name. My grandfather decided that it would be easier to break into business if your last name didn’t have a tilde in it. The fact that he was right made it even worse. No one’s ever really asked, and if they tried they had the money to make sure it never happened again.”

            “But does it really have to be a secret now?” Cisco asks, “I mean a lot has changed since then.”

            “A lot has,” Bruce snorts, “and it hasn’t. I’ve tried being more public about my heritage, and so has my mother before me. She was always more socially conscious than most upper class residents in Gotham, and many of her charities and rallies focused on struggles within Mexican-American communities like citizenship and deportation, especially their effect on children. I’ve tried to continue her legacy, but no matter what I do the media paints me as an outsider to my people and my own culture.”

            “That really sucks,” Barry squeezes Bruce’s hand again, “and nothing works?”

            “I’m pretty sure I’ve spoken about my heritage on multiple occasions, half of it on record,” Bruce sighs, “yet I see nothing. So much so I’ve given up on trying get the word out to the larger world and focused on building within the communities of Gotham.”

            “Maybe one day,” Barry smiles at Bruce. Bruce returns it, and squeezes Barry’s hand.

            “Well, what are we waiting for,” Joe claps, “let’s _share_ in Bruce’s heritage. Cisco, cut me off a slice of that flan.”

            They table laughs, and the dessert is dished out between the six. Everyone is having a fun time, laughing again. Everyone compliments Bruce on his family’s recipe.

            “This is probably the best thing I’ve ever tasted,” Barry moans between bites.

            Bruce smirks, lifting his thumb to wipe away something near Barry’s lips.

            “Tu eres lo mejor que he probado en mi vida.”

            Barry is distracted, caught up in Bruce’s heated gaze, so much so he misses Cisco choking on a bite of the flan. Bruce slips the thumb into his mouth and pulls it out slowly. Barry gulps hard.

            “Thanks…” Barry breathes out hard, “…I think…”

* * *

             After dessert, Barry brought the party back towards the living room. He can hear the conversation drifting in to the kitchen, where he’s stationed himself, washing up. Right now Bruce is asking about STAR, their work and other things. He’s heard Well’s name come up in passing, and thankfully he only froze up for a minute.

            “He’s doing well out there.”

            Barry turns, hands still in the sink, to smile at Joe. His father leans on the doorjamb, hand holding a half-full glass of whiskey.

            “I would say so,” Barry laughs, returning to his task, “he didn’t put up any fuss when you decided to ask about his relationship with Gotham City’s _own_ police department.”

            “What?” Joe smirks, “Can’t I do my job?”

            “As a detective?”

            “As a father.”

            Barry snorts into his arm. “Well,” Barry smiles, “I’m glad all his answers checked out for you.”

            “Well… I wouldn’t say that.”

            Barry stops what he’s doing. He turns fully to face Joe, drying his hands on his pants.

            “What,” he fumbles, “What do you mean? I thought you were starting to like him?”

            “I never said I didn’t like the guy Barry,” Joe steps closer, “I said I didn’t trust him.”

            “What’s not to trust?” Barry crosses his arms.

            “Remember what I said Barry, how I thought he was hiding something,” Joe starts, “I’m sure of it now. It wasn’t what I was thinking, but there’s something he isn’t telling you. I could tell.”

            “How?”

            “In his answers, Barry. There’s something missing. One, little thing he leaves out that completes the picture. It’s a bunch of half-truths I’ve heard from other people who had something to hide.”

            “You’re… you’re sure?” Barry asks, heart falling in his chest.

            “I am,” Joe says, but one look at Barry’s face has him continuing, “but I’m also sure of this: he cares about you. Deeply. I thought what he was hiding was another lover, maybe his intentions. But I was wrong, it’s clear that he’s crazy about only you.”

            “He is?” Barry breathes, heart calming, “He-he is…”

            “I’m gonna go back inside,” Joe claps him on the back, “finish up quick in here.”

            He leaves Barry to his dishes, which goes even much slower than before. His mind is on other things. His mind is focused on so much he ends up washing the same plate for ten minutes. He only stills when a pair of hands grab his from behind.

            “I’m pretty sure it’s clean, Bar,” Bruce whispers into his ear. Barry startles at first, but relaxes into Bruce’s warmth.

            “Sorry, sorry,” Barry gives him a smile, “I guess I got distracted.”

            “What for?”

            “Nothing, really,” Barry lies. The thought to bring his family’s suspicions to light, but as soon as it appears it disappears in the next instant. He changes the topic quickly, instead. “So,” he continues, “what did you think of tonight?”

            Bruce, if he noticed Barry’s slight hesitation, thinks nothing of it or is just too polite. “I thought it was good,” Bruce smirks, “I’ve been interrogated in far worse places.”

            Barry snorts. “Come on,” he chuckles, “it wasn’t that bad.”

            “It was awful,” Bruce jokes, “I didn’t even get to drag out my bank statements-“

            “Shut up!” Barry’s laughing now, turning and pushing at Bruce’s chest. Bruce sees this coming, and grabs Barry’s hands instead, dragging him closer.

            “Truth?” Bruce half-smiles at Barry, “I’ve been waiting for this for awhile. I could see how much your family cares about you and just want to see the best for you. I’m ready to do anything to prove I’m nothing but that.”

            Barry stares at Bruce with nothing but stars in his eyes. Bruce’s hold is slack, so Barry takes advantage and grabs Bruce’s face in his hands and pulls him close. He kisses Bruce with all the strength he has.

            It’s awhile before they’re both breathing normally again.

            “What?” Bruce pants, licking his lips, “What was that for?”

            “Because,” Barry shrugs, “Bruce, I l-“

            “Barry! Bruce! I think you guys should come in here!”

            Their moment is shattered by the outside world, dragging them both down from their dizzying height. Barry shakes his head, but offers an apologetic smile to Bruce. He accepts it with one of his own. Bruce and Barry walk back to the living room hand in hand, Barry leading.

            Barry enters the living room to see everyone gathered around the television, watching static.

            “When did you turn on the TV?” Barry asks.

            Eddie looks back at him, “We didn’t.”

            Just then the static disappears, and is replaced with chattering teeth, hidden behind smiling lips. Barry can feel Bruce stiffen next to him.

            “Bruce?”  
            Bruce’s eyes had widened, and he stares at the screen in horror.

            “No…” he whispers, “not here…”

            Barry’s about to ask what he’s talking about when the teeth start disappear to the sound of raucous laughter. The screen then shows a single spotlight. It’s filled in seconds by the creepiest clown Barry’s ever seen. His skin is a pasty white, and his neon green hair, although greasy, looks slicked back. His lips are stained with red as if it was blood. He’s dressed in an obnoxious purple suit, and he swings a golden cane. When he looks into the screen Barry can’t help but shiver at the cold, dead, yellow eyes.

            “Good evening Central City,” he rasps out, smiling, giggling, “I’m sorry for the interruption but I do hope you’ll enjoy my show. I promise it’ll be a real… killer.”

            “What’s going on?” Joe asks the group. No one has answers.

            “Tonight it’s a bit special, folks, as I’ve never really performed out of town. But I do _love_ performing for a new audience! It’s such a special night, folks that I intend to make it a blast… especially with my special guest stars: military grade plasma explosives! They couldn’t be here with me tonight, but I promise they will be making their mark. Not on these screens but up to and including twenty city blocks!”

            Barry’s horrified. He can’t take his eyes off the crazed clown on screen, as if he was staring right into Barry’s soul. In the background he can hear Joe talking on the phone.

            “…On my screen, too… Don’t know where…?”

            “But don’t blow your lids too early folks, I’ve saved all of that for my grand finale! I’d be _willing_ to rethink my entire act if I could get a willing volunteer. Oh, and not just anyone will do, folks, I have a particular fellow in mind. You might have seen him. Tall, dark, and brooding, with these little pointy ears!”

            He slithers right up to the camera, his rotten yellow teeth in clear view.

            “Batman,” he sings, “I know you’re watching.”

            “I feel you’ve been ignoring us, spending time in this city and not with your friends back in Gotham! It’s been forever since we’ve had a _chat_!”

            Barry can feel Bruce squeezing his hand. It’s a harsh grip, and Barry’s about to comment before the clown continues.

            “I’ll even be kind! You can even bring your new toy, Flash! I sorta like him better than your other lackey-this one has _kick_! Tick-tock Batsy. I _don’t_ like to be kept waiting.”

            The screen cuts to black.

            Everyone is on edge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You like it? Please forgive me if the Spanish was not that good, Google Translate was my tool as I am not fluent.  
> If anyone is wondering what he said, it was: "You are the best thing I've ever tasted." I really liked the idea of a Mexican-American Bruce Wayne and I hope you all do too!  
> And the Joker! You all knew he was coming, and when he's on the scene you know it's gonna be high-octane action! Also why most of this was fluff, so when the action comes you were prepared.  
> Stay tuned!  
> Kudos and Comment please!


	14. Gassed of Honor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The group scrambles to get the Joker, but have certain things already be set in motion? Batman and Barry have to work together, but first they'll have to deal with something first...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! This was a really good chapter to write and I had so much fun! I hope you all enjoy it!

            Cisco is the first to shatter the silence.

            “Where in the ever loving mind of Stephen King did _he_ crawl out of?” he shouts, turning to the group. This breaks the clown’s hold on them all, and sends them whirring to life.

            Caitlin whips out her phone and starts typing away while Joe and Eddie go to grab their jackets.

            Barry’s about to follow them, only to find Bruce still hasn’t released his hand. Barry turns back and startles at the storm playing out on Bruce’s features. He’s never seen Bruce’s face get so dark. His lips play at a snarl, and his eyes have hardened to some degree.

            “Bruce?” Barry leans in, whispering, “Are you alright?”

            With a blink, Bruce shakes off whatever came over him. He turns to Barry and gives him a shaky smile.

            “Yeah, yeah,” he breathes, “Sorry, it’s just…”

            “You know that clown, don’t you?” Barry asks.

            “Everyone in Gotham knows that face,” Bruce starts, “he’s one of the worst criminals the city’s ever made. He’s been responsible for the deaths of hundreds, and the property damage alone…”

            Barry squeezes his hand in comfort. He asks, “Who is he?”

            Caitlin answers, “He’s the Joker.”

            All eyes are on her. She’s holding her phone up to Barry. He moves towards her and grabs the phone, reading what she brought up. It’s a news article from the Gotham Gazette titled ‘CLOWN PRINCE OF CRIME STRIKES AGAIN’ followed by the ghastly image of a purple fish nearly identical to the man on the screen.

            “One of his earliest schemes,” Bruce explains, “trying to poison Gotham’s water supply with his special laughing toxin, hidden in genetically modified fish.”

            “What kind of crazy mother…” Joe shakes his head.

            “Exactly,” Bruce agrees, “he’s crazy, unstable. He’s got a permanent residency at Arkham: his own special room, even. He’s chaos if chaos was a person who dressed up like a Barnum reject.”

            “Harsh,” Cisco whistles.

            “Anything else we should know?” Joe asks Bruce.

            Bruce shakes his head, “Nothing else would do any good. He’s unpredictable, quick to anger, and hard to read. He’s driven me… most of Gotham near the brink, hoping we’d fall along with him.”

            “Damn,” Joe curses, “Just what we need. Finish off a pair of our own clowns and now we get a new one.”

            “Come on,” Eddie speaks up, “Singh wanted us there five minutes ago.”

            “There?” Barry asks.

            “The Precinct,” Joe answers, “Called me during the broadcast. He sent out the signal for any and all available officers to make their way over for crisis control. You have to come, too.”

            “Alright-“ Barry starts, but stops at the pressure on his shoulder.

            “Barry,” Bruce says, “please, be careful. You don’t know what he’s capable of.” Bruce’s words are heavy, and his eyes speak of nightmares and experiences Barry has no time to ask but all the time to wonder. He tries to convey confidence with his smile, but he’s not sure he could even convince himself.

            “He doesn’t know what I… _we_ are capable of.”

            Bruce nods, looking away. Barry’s about to say more, but Bruce pulls him in for a quick kiss. Pulling away, he pats Barry on the cheek.

            “You’d better get going,” Bruce says, “you’ve got a clock to beat.”

            “Right.”

            Barry, Joe, and Eddie make their way to their cars, while Caitlin and Cisco follow.

            “Eddie,” Caitlin calls out, “Can we get a lift to STAR? We’ll try and help out from there.”

            “Sure,” Eddie nods, “hop in.”

            Cisco and Caitlin are about to follow, but Cisco spins on his heel.

            “Where are you going?” Caitlin asks.

            He jerks his thumb towards the house, “Forgot my phone. Be back in a flash.”

            He sprints back inside, slamming the door open.

            “Hey, Bruce, have you seen-“

            There’s no one there. He freezes, looking around. Cellphone already forgotten, he walks throughout the first floor, calling for the billionaire. He’s about to head up the stairs when loud honking draws his attention elsewhere. Realizing he has no time to spare, he doubles back into the living room and finds his phone sitting on the sofa. He pockets it, and takes one last look around.

            Getting into the back seat, Caitlin lays into him.

            “What took you so long?” she asks, “did your phone disappear?”

            “Something did…”

            In the car with Joe and Barry, it’s quiet. Joe keeps his eyes firmly on the road while Barry stares out, watching the streetlamps blur into one. He’s drawn away from the lights by Joe’s throat clearing.

            “Hmm?” Barry hums.

            “Something on your mind?”

            Barry chuckles, “More than just something.”

            “We’ll stop this freak, Barry,” Joe tells him, “isn’t the first costumed clown we’ve taken down, probably won’t be the last.”

            “I hope so, Joe,” Barry starts, “it’s just-I have this feeling. This isn’t like any other fight. This feels… like _more_.”

            “Because of the risk?” Joe raises his brow, “Or because of someone else…” Joe doesn’t need to say for Barry to know whom he’s implying.

            “In more ways than you think,” Barry sighs in surrender, “tonight, when the Joker’s face was up there, he just-he froze. It’s as if he’d seen a ghost. I think… I think he might know more about the Joker. I think that you might be right, that he’s hiding something. But… I don’t know what, or how… or why.”

            “Don’t start this,” Joe warns, “it’s not good.”

            Barry snorts, “I thought this was what you wanted.”

            “Yes, I did,” Joe nods, “but I wanted you to think about this on a lazy Friday. Not when you’re about to go head to head with a murderous clown who’s no doubt leading you and that Batman into a trap.”

            “It _is_ a trap, isn’t it?” Barry smiles.

            “Has to be,” Joe smirks, “I’d say ask Batman what he thinks but we have no way to contact him.”

            “Knowing him,” Barry looks back out the window, “he’ll be the one to contact us.”

* * *

 

            “You know,” Cisco starts, “I miss the days when all we had to worry about was Wells running around.”

            “You do?” Caitlin asks, walking with him down the corridor, “Any reason?”

            “With Wells, he was narcissistic,” Cisco explains, “ever since Batman came to town, we’ve had to deal with all these crazies, with no explanation or connection between them!”

            “I have to agree,” Caitlin nods, “but isn’t it weird we find our meta-human villains much easier than these people?”

            “It’s not weird at all,” Cisco huffs, “they, however, are. As well as _scary_.”

            Caitlin has another retort hot on her tongue, when she hears a strange knocking. She stops, placing a hand on Cisco’s chest to keep him there with her.

            “What are you-“

            “Shhh!”

            She waits a beat before she hears it again. It’s the strangest knocking sound, and it seems to be coming in the direction of…

            “The accelerator!”

            They burst forward with great speed, heading in the direction of the former particle accelerator, now meta-human prison. The scientists skid to a stop in front of the open door, and share a panicked look. The door has been tampered with, and they can see straight through into the collider.

            “You don’t think…” Cisco asks.

            “If he is,” Caitlin finishes, “we’ve got another problem to add on top of our current problem.”

            They step into the room cautiously. Caitlin takes the lead again while Cisco stays a step behind. His eyes bounce across the room, on guard for whoever might step out and attack.

            The duo reaches the panel and Caitlin immediately checks the status of the accelerator.

            “Nothing seems to be off…” Caitlin starts, “But, to be safe…?” She looks back at Cisco. She doesn’t have to say anything. He nods.

            There’s a whirring sound, and soon the prison of their former boss, Eobard Thawne, is in sight. He stares at them through the eyes of Harrison Wells. He pauses his motions, smirking where he stands. For the first time in a long time, Caitlin and Cisco share a breath of relief at seeing him.

            “Good,” Thawne huffs, “I was starting to wonder when you’d get here.”

            Their good mood is over in an instant. “That banging sound was you?” Cisco asks, “What? Sad we didn’t give you a cup to run up and down the bars?”

            “Oh no, no,” Thawne scoffs, “believe me my series of knocks was all in the interest of self-preservation.”

            Caitlin and Cisco share another look.

            “What,” Caitlin asks, “are you talking about?”

            “Well, I do believe I’m talking about the recent crisis that has struck Central City,” Thawne continues, “you know: insane plots involving bombs, of all things.” He rolls his eyes, “how… typical.”

            “You know about the bombs?” Cisco starts. “Did this happen in the future? Do you know anything about this? About the Joker?”

            “What?” he barks, “The who? I don’t remember reading about any of this where I come from, but I did see two buffoons dressed in some of the most ridiculous garb imaginable plant a medium-sized charge in the accelerator.”

            “A what?”

            “You know,” Thawne smiles, “those things that goes boom!” He demonstrates an example with his hands. He laughs to himself, wiping away a crocodile tear. “Boy, you’re lucky they weren’t the brightest henchman,” Thawne chuckles, “otherwise you’d be in trouble with your horde of meta-humans.”

            Cisco and Caitlin shoot him a sour look before Caitlin sends him back into the accelerator. They ignore his protests. Caitlin turns to Cisco.

            “You think he’s telling the truth?” Caitlin whispers.

            “I’m not sure,” Cisco grumbles, “he’s an ass, that’s for sure, but I think he’s an ass who likes living.”

            “Should we,” Caitlin fumbles, “…investigate?”

            Cisco sighs, “We might as well. If it is here, than that’s good for us.”

            “Well,” Caitlin presses more buttons on the keypad, “let’s get in there.”

            The doors open slowly, and Caitlin and Cisco venture inside. 

* * *

 

            When Eddie arrives at the Precinct from dropping off Caitlin and Cisco, he is overwhelmed by the complete chaos the department is in. He sees officers running around, on the phone, doing all the things they can do with all the information they have. Too bad they can’t do much with the little they have. He moves forward, into the jungle, and sees Joe and Barry in a heated discussion with Singh.

            “…I don’t care who or what he is, he brought his messes to our doorstep and this time it’s gone too far. If anyone sees the Batman, I want him brought in,” Singh spits out. He’s about to leave, when he catches Eddie joining them from the corner of his eye. “And you, Thawne,” he calls out, “where the hell were you?”

            “I had to drop off Ramon and Snow at STAR,” he explains, “said they would do their best to help from their.”

            Singh has a sharp retort on his tongue, but drops it. Instead he sighs, running a hand down his face. “The first thing they find out,” he says, “I want to know. For now, you and West are active crisis captains. You have as much power as me for the _duration_ of this situation. I hope you can do your job effectively.” He turns on his heel and towards his office. The slam is still loud enough to be heard over the harried sounds of the office.

            “Active crisis captains?” Eddie asks, “what are those?”

            “In short,” Joe starts, leading the three towards Joe’s desk, “we direct rescue operations and evacuation procedures, coordinate with other departments, and can form and lead teams. Any decision we make goes unquestioned.”

            “So what do we do now?”

            “Right now you deal with the public,” Barry steps in, “people are scared: they want to know what we’re doing about the situation and where the bombs are. Since we can’t answer the latter, the former goes without saying. All we can do is assure them we’re doing all we can.”

            “Is that why this place is more crowded,” Eddie scoffs, “then a church on a holiday.”

            “We haven’t been able to deploy anyone at the moment,” Joe shrugs, “maybe in the hour we can set up squadrons to check certain landmarks and control evacuation routes. But, with no knowledge of where the bombs are…”

            “We don’t know if we’d be leading them right to it,” Eddie sighs, “Jesus, this is a crap situation.” He looks out into the sea of blue uniforms and stiffens. “Can’t just do nothing though,” he starts, “I’m gonna see if I can do… _anything_.”

            He stalks away, further into the department. Officers hit and walk into him, but he takes no notice. Instead, he flags down the one officer to not bang into him, surprisingly.

            “Patty!”

            She turns around, brows drawn in confusion.

            “Yes, sir?” she asks, standing at attention.

            “I need your assistance,” Eddie starts, “I want organize a group for… something. You think you can help me figure out what that ‘something’ is?”

            “Sure!” she jumps, but soon relaxes, “I mean… sure, I think I can help figure out something…” She smiles at him, and he returns it.

            “I know you can.”

            Barry and Joe, after Eddie left, have moved to Barry’s lab to discuss more ‘private’ matters.

            “So,” Joe starts, “I take it running across the city and picking up bombs is out of the question?”

            “We don’t know if there’s a pressure trigger,” Barry grumbles, “besides, without knowing where the bombs are I’d just be wasting time.”

            “So there’s nothing you can do is what you’re saying?”

            Barry sighs. “There is one thing.”

            He looks at Joe. Joe can tell what Barry is already thinking.

            “No.”

            “But-“

            “ _No,_ ” Joe continues, “I’m not letting you go after that creep.”

            “It’s the only chance we have of stopping any of this!”

            “You heard Bruce,” Joe argues, “he’s dangerous.”

            “It’s not like I’m without my own protection,” Barry defends.

            Joe huffs, “And he knows what you can do. I thought we agreed this was a trap, Barry?”

            “We did,” Barry answers, “Didn’t mean I said I wasn’t going to go after him.”

            “But-“

            “Besides,” Barry continues, “it’s not like I’ll be going alone. Batman will be with me… once he makes contact.” He turns away from Joe, staring out the window. A clearing sound from Joe draws Barry back.

            Joe holds up a bat-a-rang.

            “Seems to me he already has.”

            “Where did-“

            “Just noticed it,” Joe hands it to him, “on the table. Do you… know what to do?”

            “Last time he met me on top of the roof… I guess-“

            “Be careful Barry,” Joe cuts him off, “please.”

            Barry gives Joe a smile and squeezes his shoulder, “I will, Joe.”

            Barry whooshes away to the roof.

            Batman is already there, waiting for him.

            “Kind of risky, you being here,” Barry starts, “Singh just put out an APB on you.”

            “He’s just doing what he can,” Batman says, “not much else anyone here can do-“

            “Hey!”

            “-but don’t worry. I’ve dealt with the Joker before. He’ll be behind bars before the night is over.”

            “Great,” Barry smiles, “so how are we going to find him?”

            Batman shoots Barry a look. If the upper half of his face wasn’t hidden behind his cowl, Barry would be sure that the Dark Knight’s scowl was also accompanied by a raised brow.

            “We,” Batman grumbles, “you aren’t doing anything.”

            Barry’s jaw drops in surprise. “What?”

            “You don’t know anything about the Joker,” Batman continues, “even with your abilities, it’s a far greater risk if you face him than if I do.”

            “But if we face him together-“

            “Then we’d both be at risk,” Batman turns, “I don’t want to watch both mine and your back. Why don’t you stick to helping civilians and I’ll-“

            “No.”

            Batman stops. He turns to face Barry, “No?”

            “I’m going with you-“

            “Barry.”

            “Don’t Barry me, Batman,” he says, “I’m this town’s hero and right now it needs _me_. I’d be fine going face to face with him alone. You’re just lucky I’m even _letting_ you tag along.”

            Batman steps in closer, inches away from Barry. He stares at him in challenge. Barry doesn’t back away.

            He smirks, “ _Letting me_?”

            Barry blushes, but stands firm. “Yes,” he nods, “letting you.”

            They stand there, watching each other; waiting for one of them to make a move. Batman loses. It’s faint, but Barry can see Batman’s eyes dart towards his lips from behind the lens of his cowl.

            Barry licks his lips, and quirks a brow.

            “Well,” Batman starts, “since you seem dead set on doing this…”

            “I am.”

            Batman sighs. “Alright.”

            It looks like he’s about to say more, but just at that moment Barry’s cell phone goes off. Barry steps back, and pulls it out. Cisco’s name flashes on screen. He looks back up and lifts a finger to Batman. He answers the phone.

            “Cisco,” Barry turns, “tell me you’ve got something.”

            “Oh,” Cisco laughs, “we’ve got _something_ alright.”

            Barry waits, but as Cisco doesn’t elaborate he sighs out, “Well?”

            “We got a bomb-“

            “A _bomb_?!?”

            “And Caitlin and I both think we can use it to find the Joker’s hideout.”

            Barry can feel Batman right behind him, having been drawn in by Barry’s outburst.

            “Just-just stay there,” Barry says, “Batman and I are on our way.”

            “Batman-“

            “Be there soon.”

            Barry ends the call and turns back around. “So,” he starts, “we need to get to-“

            Batman isn’t there. Barry looks around, before realizing the Gothamite is nowhere to be found. He rolls his eyes.

            “I’ll meet you there,” he grumbles to himself.

            He readies himself, and runs.

* * *

 

          “Maybe if we open this panel…”

          “No, no, no, we need to make sure it’s deactivated so we don’t blow ourselves up.”

          “But if it’s deactivated we won’t be able to track him.”

           Barry enters STAR to find Caitlin and Cisco going at it, a bomb the size of a trash can between them.

           “What the hell?”

            The two look up, smiling, “Barry!”

            They rush up to him, Caitlin grabbing his arm and Cisco bouncing around.

            “You’ll never believe what we found!” Cisco gushes.

            “Found?”  
            “Well,” Caitlin shrugs, “more like what someone dropped on our doorstep.”

            “This was _inside_ STAR?” Barry gapes.

            “In the particle accelerator,” Cisco nods, “but don’t worry, we were able to bring it in here.”

            “You moved it!”

            Cisco and Caitlin share a confused look.

            “Were we…” Caitlin asks, “not supposed to move it?”

            “Well, I mean,” Barry starts, but then sighs, “since it didn’t blow up, I guess it’s okay. But you should have called me!”

            “We just wanted to get a head start on this,” Cisco explains, “besides, when we called Joe he said you were busy with Batman so we didn’t want to interrupt-“

            “Interrupt? What?” Barry laughs, awkwardly, “You could have interrupted, I mean, it’s not like this _wasn_ ’t important…” He feels his face getting redder, and he scratches at the back of his head.

            Again the STAR lab employees share a look.

            “Well… anyway,” Caitlin speaks up, “speaking of Batman, where is he?”

            Barry’s about to answer, when a throat clearing from further inside the room draws all three of their attention. Standing behind the explosive, Batman stands. He’s inspecting the weapon, scanning it with a small gadget.

            Barry’s jaw drops, “What? When-when did you get here?”

            “I’ve been here for awhile,” Batman answers. He pauses, staring right at Barry and smirking, “I didn’t want to _interrupt_.”

            Barry’s bright red.

            Caitlin and Cisco don’t notice, however, as they are face to face with the Batman.

            “You’re…” Cisco breathes, voice leaving him in this moment. He’s better than Caitlin, who is just opening and closing her mouth and gesturing to the air.

            Batman, if he notices them, makes no notice of their reactions. Instead, he circles the explosive.

            “Hmm…”

            “What is it?” Barry asks, moving forward to stand next to him.

            “This… doesn’t match the description of the charges that were stolen,” Batman says.

            “You sure?” Barry raises a brow.

            “Almost positive,” Batman continues, pointing, “Look here, there’s a few things that don’t match up. The design is off, and the panel that leads to the explosive core seems to be missing. There’s doesn’t seem to be any remote detonator that can get a clear signal, and it’s much larger than the blueprint called for.”

            “Maybe they modified it to be larger, so it’s like hiding in plain sight?” Caitlin regains her composure, “you know, he’s making people believe they’re hidden when in actuality they’re in places easily seen.”

            “Well that’s good, right?” Cisco adds, “now that we know what they look like, Barry can run across the city and find them, right?”

            “I guess,” Barry shrugs. Something doesn’t sit right in his stomach, and Batman seems to share his sentiment. There’s something gnawing away at his mind, telling him it shouldn’t be this easy.

            “Barry? Hello?”

            He blinks back into the moment, Caitlin and Cisco giving him worrying looks.

            “Sorry,” he shakes his head, “I’ll-I’m going to get into costume, now.”

            He speeds towards his costume, putting it on easily in the blink of an eye, and returns to stand next to Batman. Batman has turned his back on the weapon, talking with Caitlin and Cisco about how they would go about finding the other bombs. So when the top of the weapon lights up a jarring green, it’s only Barry that notices. A small cylinder reveals itself, and slowly a green gas starts to leak out.

            “Out!” Barry shouts, “Everybody out!”

            The gas is leaking out faster, and Barry already feels it seeping into his costume and skin. The others turn to him, and Batman notices just in time. He grabs the ends of his cape and lifts it up, covering Cisco and Caitlin as he ushers them out the door. He hits the panel on his way out, slamming the door shut, and trapping Barry inside.

            “Barry!” Caitlin yells, running back to the door. Batman grabs her around the waist.

            “He’ll be okay,” Batman tells her, “his accelerated healing factor will keep him alive even with all that gas in there.”

            “But,” Caitlin continues, “the bomb-“

            “Wasn’t a bomb,” Batman grumbles, “it was a decoy. An _obvious_ decoy… and I fell for it.”

            “You can berate yourself later,” Cisco steps in, pointing, “right now we need to keep moving.” From beneath the door and through the cracks, the gas starts to leak its way through. Batman curses at the sight.

            He turns to the others, “Is there any room in here that’s sealed?”

            Cisco starts to rack his brain, but Caitlin answers first. “Gideon’s room!” she exclaims, walking away from the door and futher down the hallway. “It’s our best bet right now.”

            Batman takes one last look at the door and sees more and more of the gas escaping. He and Cisco move farther away and follow her.

            “I hope you’re right.”

            They hurry themselves towards the futuristic room, stopping in the middle of the hallway when they reach it.

            “Well?” Batman asks, looking back down the way they came, “Where is it?”

            “It’s right here,” Cisco nods his head, “we think it exists in some kind of fourth dimension or-“

            “Or Thawne left it out of the blueprints when he built the place.”

            Caitlin opens a little section of the wall and starts to fiddle with the panel. Batman turns to look back and can see the inky green cloud make its way further down, closer and closer.

            “It’s coming,” he grits out.

            “Almost… and… in! Everybody in!”

            The door fades away, cube by cube, and Cisco is the first to jump in. Caitlin follows after, motioning to Batman to follow. He jumps in, the door closing right behind him. Just in time, as the gas passes over where they once stood.

            Caitlin walks towards the center of the room. “We should be safe in here,” she starts, “until… whatever that was passes.”

            “It’s his M.O.,” Batman explains, “a calling card: his laughing gas. One inhale stuns the nerves, trapping you, and you _laugh_ until you die… your face, frozen in an eerie grin. Your face turns white and your lips go blue.”

            “Barry…” Caitlin worries.

            “Like I said,” Batman says, “he’ll be fine…” He turns back to where the door once was, putting his hand on it. “…I hope…”

            He stays like that for a beat, before he’s startled out of it by a woman’s robotic voice.

            “Hello Cisco, Caitlin,” she starts, “of what service do you require of me?”

            Batman has one hand on his belt, eyes darting around, “Who is that?”

            Cisco chuckles. “Like Caitlin said, we’re in Gideon’s Room,” he explains, “ _this_ is Gideon.”

            “Hello, I am Gideon,” she speaks, “I was created by Barry Allen in the near future.”

            Batman’s eyes widen, “Future?”

            “Oh yeah,” Cisco waves, “forgot some people aren’t used to time travel. She was brought back by our former boss, Harrison Wells-“

            “But,” Caitlin interjects, “he wasn’t really Harrison Wells, he was actually Eobard Thawne in disguise, a distant descendant of Eddie’s.”

            “Right, right,” Cisco nods, “and he went back in time to kill Barry, but instead murdered his mother. Right now he’s doing time in our particle accelerator while we figure out what to do with him.”

            “Oh…” Batman says, mouth forming an uneven line of discomfort.

            “That’s not even the weirdest thing,” Cisco starts, “take a look at this. Gideon, show the newspaper.”

            “Of course, Cisco.”

            On the farthest wall, a hologram appears of a large newspaper headline. Batman’s jaw slacks a bit as he walks forward. He takes it in: the picture of the Flash, the red background, and the headline that drops his heart right into his stomach. His hand hovers at the picture, close to touching it but not really.

            He whispers to himself: “Barry… what happened?”

            Caitlin and Cisco ignore him, instead focused on another curios part of the article. The journalist who wrote the piece’s name starts to fade in and out.

            “What’s going on with Iris’s name?” Caitlin whispers to Cisco.

            The words ‘Iris West-Allen’ flicker back and forth, the ‘Allen’ disappearing, only to be replaced with a name more foreign to them, and back again.

            “I’m not sure…” Cisco thinks, “but maybe… it means the future is… changing?”

            “Then what does that mean for us?”

            “I… I don’t know…”

            Back in the lab, Barry has collapsed onto the ground, clutching his chest and stomach as he laughs without control. He tries to look around, but once he gets past the tears in his eyes, the room is blanketed in a sickly green fog. Every breath he takes brings more of this gas into his lungs.

            Barry has trouble moving. He tries to push himself up, only to get nowhere. His muscles spasm and force him back to the ground.

            The most he can do is turn on his back. His vision starts to blur, and the green-tinted white of the ceiling spins before him.

            ‘ _Come on Barry_ ,’ he thinks, ‘ _you can do this. You said all this much before… you’re not all talk_.’

            He tries to get up again, only to collapse back on his chest one more time. His laughter starts to come out in bursts, and he can feel his lungs running out of air.

            Barry’s able to turn his head slightly; to stare at what he believes is the door. The gas is thick, blocking almost everything out. He hopes Caitlin and Cisco made it out safe. And Batman…

            ‘ _You aren’t doing anything…_ ’

            ‘ _Batman was right_ ,’ he curses, ‘ _I wasn’t ready. I didn’t even get to see the Joker before he took me down…’_

Barry’s vision starts to black out, and his face hurts from smiling so much. He can feel himself edge towards unconsciousness.

            But he also feels sparks.

            It starts in his fingers, and starts to spread up his arms and across his entire body.

            ‘ _No_ ,’ Barry thinks, ‘ _I’m not going down like this. My city needs me… my friends… Joe, Eddie, Cisco, Caitlin, Bruce… hell, Batman needs me even if he won’t admit it. I’m not going down without a fight.’_

            Barry tries to push himself up one final time. It feels like he’s pressing against an elephant, with arms made of loose Jell-o. But he’s able to get on his feet.

            ‘ _Gotta… make this… count.’_

            He does a quick prep, and launches into action. With the final energy in his body, he whirls around the canister and disassembles it. He grabs at the tank and rushes outside, tossing it away. He pauses for a few seconds to breathe clean air, but goes back in to clear the building. He races around, gathering the toxic spray and bringing it back outside for it to disperse. He does this for a long time until he thinks the building is clear.

            In Gideon’s room, the three people try to bide their time. Caitlin has taken to pacing, while Cisco rests in a corner. Batman stands at the other side, glowering.

            “How long has it been?” Cisco asks, breaking the silence.

            “Maybe ten minutes,” Caitlin breathes, “or more?”

            “It has to be gone now, right?” Cisco gets up from the floor, “won’t the ventilation system have driven it out?”

            “It could have,” Caitlin guesses, “but with the amount being released into the building, it easily could have been overwhelmed.”

            “I can’t take it any longer!” Cisco yells, heading towards the door.

            “Cisco! No!” Caitlin grabs at him.

            “Let me go!” “No!”

            They fight for a few seconds before Gideon’s voice breaks in.

            “Would it help if I were to inform you that all foreign agents have been expelled from the building,” she says, “a scan of the building shows small traces of the gas, but none that could be lethal.”

            “And Barry?” Batman steps forward.

            “In the lab.”

            They exit without a second thought, running to the lab. Caitlin gets there first, her hands flying to her mouth.

            Barry lies motionless on the floor, surrounded by the pieces of the machine.

            Cisco stills next to her, frozen to the spot as well. It’s Batman who takes the initiative and moves further in. He drops to the floor and picks Barry’s head up. He puts his mouth right near his ear, and then places two fingers on his neck. He breathes a sigh of relief when he finds what he wants.

            “He’s still with us,” Batman says, “barely.”

            “Oxygen!” Caitlin comes back, “bring him over here, I’ll hook him up!”

            Caitlin heads towards the small medical room, bringing the tank out from where she keeps it. Batman is not far behind, Barry cradled in his arms. He lays Batman on the bed and pulls up a nearby chair.

            Caitlin hooks Barry up to the oxygen tank, slipping the mask over his face. She’s about to do more when Batman holds a small, plastic vial to her.

            “What is-“

            “An antidote,” Batman says, not even looking at her, “I always carry one for the Joker’s gas with me.”

            “Okay,” Caitlin nods. She moves over to the counter, grabbing a syringe and filling it with the antidote. Testing the syringe, she moves towards Barry and grabs his arm. She sticks it in, pressing down on it to release the formula into Barry’s bloodstream to help him recover.

            “Knowing Barry,” she throws the syringe away, “he’ll be up within the hour.”

            “That’s a relief,” Cisco enters, “because he’ll need to be up if he wants to fight the Joker.”

            Batman and Caitlin turn to him.

            “What are you talking about?” Caitlin asks.

            Cisco holds up a small, glowing stick of some kind. “It’s that remote transmitter you were talking about,” he explains, “probably tuned to fast movements like Barry’s, so it would go off when he was nearby, or at least alert whoever it was holding the trigger he was nearby.”

            “And with it,” Batman starts, “you think you’ll be able to find him?”

            “I’ll try,” Cisco says, “but it’ll take some time. Thankfully it’ll allow Barry to get some rest.”

            Caitlin walks towards Cisco and pats him on the shoulder, “Come on, let’s get to work.”

            They are walking back to the lab when Caitlin looks back, only to see Batman isn’t following.

            Instead, he’s still with Barry. He’s looking at him as if he’s the only important thing in the room. That explosions and clowns weren’t hanging over his head, only the outcome of Barry’s trip with the toxic gas. She can only see his head clearly, but she thinks his arms are resting on the bed, and his hands…

            “Should we go get him?” Cisco jerks a thumb over at the two.

            “No,” Caitlin says, “I think we should let him be for now.” 

* * *

 

            Deep within the bowels of an abandoned building, the Clown Prince of Crime sits on a hastily assembled throne, playing with an odd toy. He’s in a relaxed position, and doesn’t even startle when a nearby door slams open.

            “We got a problem Mistah J.”

            He frowns. He turns in his chair, looking over the arm to see his former sidekick, back for one night only, glaring at him. Her blonde hair, pulled tight in pigtails, is dyed at the tips. Her jumpsuit, red and black, is skin-tight. She has two pistols at her sides. The white makeup she wears is runny, the black and red eye-shadow smudged.

            “Harley,” Joker growls, “I thought I told you not to interrupt my _personal_ time.”

            Harley rolls her eyes. “Whatever,” she continues, “it’s about the ‘surprise’ you planted at that laboratory. It stopped before the tank was empty. They stopped it.”

            “Well of course they did, Harley,” Joker smiled, standing, “they’re heroes after all. Besides, I didn’t intend to kill them with this-“

            “Then why did you have me and Punch drag that thing over there if you weren’t going to kill ‘em!”

            Joker shoots her a dark look. He raises his hand. “I thought I told you never to interrupt me!”

            He swings.

            Harley grabs his hand mere inches from his face.

            “And I thought I told you what would happen if you laid even a _finger_ on me,” she warns, “I don’t care how much I’m getting paid. One hand, and you’re the only thing that’s getting blown up.”

            Joker grumbles, but acquiesces. She releases him, and he falls back.

            “Just, go get ready,” Joker shoos her, “they’ll be here before the night is through.” He smiles, “And when they do… that’s when the _real fun_ begins.”

            His crazed laughter follows Harley out of the room.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If there was Joker, it was also the perfect opportunity to bring in Harley... although with a twist. I hate their relationship (and don't even get me started on how it was portrayed in Suicide Squad) and really love what DC has done with her now.  
> Next chapter will find our heroes facing off against the villains, so stay tuned!


	15. It Was Only A...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Batman and Flash face off against the Joker in his lair of horrors. But will the real shock come from after the battle?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there folks!  
> Just wanted to get this one out here before NYCC 2016!  
> I prob won't start on the next chapter until after so you'll have to handle the wait somehow, and let me just tell you you'll be dying for the next few chapters after this one.  
> Oh, and if anyone here is going to NYCC, it would be totally crazy to see any of you there. I'll be dressed, on Friday and Saturday, as Shiro from Voltron in his Paladin armor. If you happen to find me, don't be shy to tell me you're a fan!  
> Enjoy reading!

            The amusement park stands still and silent. Its rides have rusted and nature has started its campaign to take the land back. There are weeds breaking through the pavement, and vines climb the iron-wrought fencing.

            Barry and Batman stop at the entrance. They look up at the fading sign and its missing letters.

            “You sure this is the place?” Barry asks, “I mean it seems a bit… on the nose.”

            “He appreciates the irony,” Batman grumbles. He stalks into the park. Barry pouts, but follows right behind him.

            He grabs for his arm, “Hey, now hold-“

            Barry’s cut off by sudden theme music. It’s loud, slow, and creepy. One by one, the lights turn on, nearly blinding the two heroes. The rides creak to life around them.

            “Well,” Barry gulps, “that’s reassuring.”

            There’s static in Barry’s ear, until Cisco’s voice blares to life.

            “What happened?” he asks, “Did the Joker pull out the old welcome wagon?”

            Barry looks around, “You… could say that.”

            “Well,” Cisco hums, “at least you’re sure that he’s here.”

            “You seemed pretty sure before.”

_Barry stirs awake. His head is pounding. His mouth is dry. His eyes are closed, but he can feel the harsh, white light shining down on him. There’s a pressure on his arm that leaves it numb yet, warm._

_He opens one eye, then another. His vision blurs, but he can make out a dark shadow to his left. It moves back slightly, towards the edge of his vision. A few seconds later, he realizes that the blurry shadow is Batman. He also notices that the weight on his arm was gone._

_“Wha-“ he groans, “What happened?” He tries to sit up, only for Batman to push him down gently._

_“The Joker happened, remember,” Batman speaks softly, “we were here, and the bomb went off-“_

_“The bomb!” Barry tries to get up again. Batman keeps him down._

_“It was a trap,” Batman calms him, “He released a toxin, you got the brunt of it. You saved us, and then we saved you. You’ve been recovering.”_

_“How long have I been out?”_

_“Only an hour,” Batman tells him, “you were subjected to the gas longer than anyone I’ve known-and survived.”_

_“Good,” Barry nods, “Now it’s time for us to put that son of a bitch down.”_

_“No,” Batman glares, “it’s time for you to stay here and rest. I’ll handle the Joker.”_

_“Are you really bringing this up now?”_

_“Seeing as how I wasn’t the one who nearly died, I thought you’d understand my stance on the matter.”_

_“I’m going no matter what. This isn’t the first time I’ve almost died.”_

_Batman becomes rigid. He somehow manages to frown even harsher at Barry._

_“Well, even if there’s no convincing you,” Batman scowls, “we still don’t know where he is-“_

_“We know where he is!”_

_Cisco’s voice cuts clear across the room. Barry smirks at Batman’s grumpy face. Barry once again tries to get up. Batman places a hand on his shoulder._

_“If you try to push me back down again I swear I’m carrying you back o Gotham.”_

_Batman pulls back._

_Barry swings himself to a sitting position. He takes a deep breath before launching himself forward._

_Only his feet can’t find their footing, and he falls forward._

_Batman catches him before he hits the ground. He pulls Barry up until he’s eye level with him. Barry can feel the eye roll._

_“I might need a few more minutes,” Barry shrugs, red faced._

_Batman sighs. He readjusts Barry, tossing his arm over his shoulder, and pulls him close. Barry’s face burns, as does the side tucked tight against Batman. He helps Barry into the lab._

_Cisco and Caitlin turn to the two heroes. Their smiles drop, and they move towards Barry._

_“Barry!” Caitlin says, “You’re up! How are you feeling?”_

_“You don’t feel like laughing, do you?” Cisco adds, “Do you?”_

_“Guys, guys, back off,” Barry waves them off, “I’m fine. If anything, I feel like punching clowns.”_

_“Well,” Cisco smiles, “I think we can help you with that.”_

_“So I’ve heard,” Barry smiles. He and Batman move towards the computer. Cisco and Caitlin move to either side of them._

_“We were able to pinpoint where the remote signal was coming from and, well…” Caitlin trails off, “we have a pretty good idea of where he is.”_

            “Just think of this as going the extra mile,” Caitlin chimes in from the other side.

            “Yeah, yeah,” Barry chuckles, walking behind Batman, “since you two are so good, can you maybe get an exact location?”

            “They won’t have to,” Batman speaks up, “He’s leading us right to him.”

            He points at large arrows, painted green and purple with large letters on it.

            “Right, right,” Barry nods, “I forgot this was a trap.”

            Batman shoots Barry a look. “Sure…”

            They follow the signs in silence. The carnival music plays between them, with a small laugh underplaying it. As they follow the signs deeper and deeper into the park, the laughter gets louder. The signs stop in front of a staple amusement ride.

            “You have _got_ to be kidding me.”

            The waters are choppy as the boats exit and enter the pink, heart-shaped cave. The lights have dimmed, and cast the area in a romantic glow. The laughter has reached a crescendo, and covers the earlier soundtrack.

            Barry looks at Batman, “Do we…?”

            Batman returns the look. “What choice do we have?” He starts towards the tunnel, walking past the boats and into the dark of the cave. Barry sighs, but follows nonetheless.

            They spend some time in the tunnel. Barry tried to contact Cisco and Caitlin while inside, but he couldn’t get any signal. He’d given up five minutes in. They stick to silence, preferring to stay alert. The further in they walked, the more the outside noise faded. Now all Barry could hear were his and Batman’s breaths.

            Barry looked ahead, at Batman. It was hard to make him out in the dim glow of the tunnel, but there were things he could make out. How his shoulders stayed set and tense, ready for anything. The way his jaw seemed to be stuck, while his mouth cut across his face in an exposed line. How he kept sneaking glances back at Barry when he thought he wasn’t looking, making sure he was still there. His steps were slow, and he made sure to keep close to Barry. They were a few inches apart, but Barry could feel Batman’s heat. It was near distracting.

            It was distracting, given how the chattering laughter caught him off guard. Barry jumps, while Batman throws his cape up as a shield between Barry and the laughter.

            It proves for naught, as a pair of chattering teeth slowly jumps their way towards the two. Batman huffs, and then crushes the teeth beneath his booth.

            “What about-“

            “No gas,” Batman tells him, “he wouldn’t pull the same trick twice in one night.”

            “You know me so well Batsy!”

            Barry turns, putting his back up against Batman’s. He gets into a fighting stance, as Batman follows suit, drawing out three bat-a-rangs.

            “Oh, please, you have nothing to fear of me…” Joker’s voice cuts across the small space, “yet, at least.”

            “Show yourself, Joker,” Batman growls.

            “Now where’s the fun in that?” Joker laughs, “Besides, you haven’t even let me introduce myself to your little boyfriend-“

            “Don’t bother,” Barry cuts him off, “I know you’re crazy, and need to be stopped, what else is there?”

            “Oh poo, you’re one of _those_ people,” Joker grumbles, “ah well, no matter! At least it makes _this_ easier.”

            “Make what-“

            The floor underneath Barry’s feet falls open, and Barry is sucked down without another sound. Barry can see Batman try to reach out to him, but the floor closes just as quickly as it opened.

            Back in the tunnel, Batman has dropped the bat-a-rangs and is banging on the floor. He gives three good whacks, and then gets back up. He’s spinning, addressing everywhere and no one.

            “Bring him back!”

            “Oh calm down, Batsy,” Joker laughs, “he’s fine… for now.”

            “Joker!”

            “Always so serious Batsy,” Joker brushes him off, “what happened to _our_ relationship! I’d say something witty, you’d say something witty-we had something… something beautiful. But then you had to go and grow that big red zit-“

            “Enough!”

            The Joker quiets for a bit, but then resumes with an edge to his voice.

            “You wound me, Batsy,” he growls, “Allow me to _return_ the favor!”

            He hears them before he sees them. Batman ducks, three iron spikes spearing the wall behind him. He can hear more coming, and doesn’t stay there for long. He speeds down the tunnel, dodging spikes left and right, trying to find his way to the Joker…

            And to Flash. 

* * *

 

            _Barry flutters his eyes open. His head hurts, and he cradles it with his hand: his free hand. He stares at the pale skin in confusion, sure that he was in his costume only moments before._

_Soon enough, he realizes his clothing wasn’t the only thing that was different._

_He pushes up from the cold, reflective floor and shudders at the familiar sight._

_Mirrors. There are mirrors everywhere. Floating, aimlessly around him._

_‘No…’ Barry think, ‘I-I can’t be back…’_

_He looks around for any sign of exit, that is, until he catches his reflection in a nearby mirror._

_When he looked down at himself, he saw his regular civilian clothes. But looking at the reflection told a different story. Barry’s reflection was decked head to toe in his Flash gear._

_The mirror floats closer, enough for him to touch. The glass is cold to the touch. He stares at his reflection before he notices something out of the corner of his eye._

_Behind his reflection, he could just make out Batman’s pointy ears and trademark smirk. Barry let go of the breath he was holding and relaxed against the mirror. He turned, words on the tip of his tongue, only to lose all thought._

_Instead of Batman, Bruce stands behind him. He’s smirking._

_“Bruce?” Barry can hear himself say, “What’re you… I thought-I thought Batman was…”_

_Except, Batman was. He appears from the shadows, right next to Bruce. Barry gulps back a gasp. He looks between the two similar men, eyes darting back and forth. Soon enough, the lines between Bruce and Batman start to blur and blur until-_

Barry sits up, choking back a yell and a cold sweat stuck underneath his uniform. He’s panting, one hand gripping at the lightning bolt at his chest. The other barely keeps him up. He swallows hard. Barry slowly takes in his surroundings, the knot in his chest loosening with each passing second.

            No mirrors.

            No anything, in fact.

            He stands, steadier, and looks for an exit. It doesn’t take him long to find the door. Besides the small drains, surrounded by rats, there wasn’t much else in the room. He tries his communicator one last time. Static.

            Barry carefully opens the door, and slips out into the hallway. It seems to go on for a long ways.   Barry knows he could easily speed down the hallway, but seeing as the Joker is as unpredictable as he is annoying, Barry decides it’s better to play it safe. He takes slow, sure steps.

            “That all you got, Flash?”

            Joker’s voice echoing down the hallway is enough to make Barry pause, but only for a beat. He takes a deep breath, and then continues down the hallway.

            “You haven’t seen nothing yet,” Barry talks back.

            “Oh, what spark!” Joker giggles, “I knew you had to have _something_ in you. To be honest it was getting boring watching you just twitch in your sleep-“

            “You were _watching_ me?”

            “Don’t sound so scandalized, Flash! After all, you and Batsy _are_ my entertainment for the night.”

            “I thought we were supposed to be the heroes?” Barry smirks, working his way further and further down the hallway.

            “I don’t know about that,” Joker drawls, “idiotic buffoons, lovesick idiots, and jokes are words I’d used to describe you two. But not heroes.”

            “What was that?” Barry asks, blushing under his cowl. He can see light somewhere further down.

            “I assume you mean ‘lovesick idiots’ even though that was the second thing I said,” Joker says, sounding bored, “honestly, the only reason I’ve switched from Batsy to you is because I was sick of him screaming your name. But I’m sure _you_ are used to it.”

            “I-I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Barry chokes out, “we’re partners-acquaintances at best.”

            “Oh sure, sure, I get it,” Joker sighs, “I’ve been there, man: delusions, am I right? Although, according to my most recent psychiatrist I’m still there! HA!” He descends into a fit of giggles that sends chills crawling down Barry’s spine. He’s getting closer and closer to the light, so he doesn’t let it stop him.

            “Oh, I wouldn’t go down there, Flashy-kins!”

            “Why,” Barry smirks, stepping from the hallway into an open room. He takes a nice gulp of air. “Am I too close to wherever it is you’re hiding?”

            “On the contrary, darling, you couldn’t be farther from me.”

            The opening to the hallway slams shut, covered by a brick wall. Barry’s about to step towards it until the Joker chastises him.

            “I wouldn’t do that if I were you!”

            “And why not?”

            “Let’s just say, with every step you take,” Joker sings, “I’ll be watching you… blow up a section of your beloved city.”

            Barry gasps, “What?” He looks down at the floor. It had turned from an eerie black to a horrifying purple.

            “Let me make it more obvious, since you seem a bit-shall we say, _slow_ , to the uptake?” Joker giggles, “One step, even the tiniest amount of pressure for the shortest amount of time, will trigger a bomb planted somewhere in the city to go… well, I’ll let you find out yourself.”

            “You-you can’t-“

            “ _Try me_.”

            The Joker’s laugh reverberates across the room, bouncing and pounding against Barry’s head. He darts his eyes around, mind racing on what to do next.

* * *

 

            Batman leans against a wall, taking short, quick breaths. He applies pressure to his side, where one of the spikes grazed his side earlier. The cut isn’t deep, but it hit an already healing wound from earlier.

            He sighs, and grabs at his cape with his free hand. He rips it with his teeth, tearing strips off to tie around him. Satisfied that they are tight enough, he pushes from the wall.

            Batman stays alert while walking down the hallway. He keeps one hand on the wall, letting it trail alongside him.

            He stops when he hears it. It’s far away, but he can just make out the sound. It’s someone screaming-calling out for help. And it sounds like-

            “Barry,” Batman whispers. He picks up his pace, running down the hallway. He aggravates the wound, and he can feel more blood pouring out, but it doesn’t matter now. The hallway curves, and Batman thinks he can see something red-

            He falls, the floor underneath him giving out. Luckily, he grabs hold of the small ledge. Batman pulls himself up, collapsing. He pulls himself to his knees, hand pressed to his side. He stares ahead of him, where a dummy in a homemade Flash costume is hooked up to a speaker system. It continues playing over Batman’s heavy breathing. He glares at it; then launches a bat-a-rang. The voice stops.

            ‘ _Get it together, Bruce_ ,’ he thinks, standing, ‘ _that was sloppy. You can’t save Barry if you carry on like this_.’

            “Wow, Batsy,” Joker’s voice cuts in, “that was pathetic, even for you. Seems like this one hero town has really dulled your mind. I told Harley you’d never be dumb enough to fall for this trick and yet… Oh, well, the head rarely listens to the heart.”

            Batman keeps his face still, even as he winces internally.

            “Nothing?” Joker asks, “At least some things never change…”

            “Stop with these games, Joker,” Batman growls, “Surrender and go back to Arkham peacefully!”

            “Oh, stop, Batsy, that’s your best joke yet!” Joker shrieks, “As if you don’t know what’s going on!”

            “What?”

            “Wait-you _really_ don’t know what’s going on?” Joker sings, “I’ll say, this is highly ironic!”

            “What do you mean?” Batman yells, “What’s going on?”

            “Oh, like I’d spoil the surprise,” Joker giggles, “you don’t get to find out until you learn how to play nice!”

            “Joker!”

            “Relax, Batsy,” Joker leaves him, “Enjoy your trip.”

            Batman has half a second to react before the floor beneath him gives way to nothing. He runs, each step triggering the ground to fall out from under his feet. The room is large, and he can’t see the end. All he can hear, besides all the blood rushing, is the sound of the Joker’s insane laughter, echoing in the cave-like structure. 

* * *

 

            Barry sits on the floor. He makes sure he has enough space where he’s not accidentally setting off a bomb, but still where he can sit comfortably. He has pretty ample room; too bad it’s not enough.

            He can’t run: on the floor or on the walls. No matter how fast he goes, he’ll still be setting off the sensors. And he can’t even reach the walls let alone run on them. For now, he’s out of options.

            And thinking isn’t helping him.

            “Gah!”

            Barry throws his hands up in the air in frustration. That’s all it takes for it to leave his body, and he starts to sag. He’s about to place his hands behind him, but catches himself at the last minute.

            “This,” Barry hums, “is a real goddamn _bitch_ of a situation.”

            He wants to stretch, to run, to scream. He needs to save the day, but how can he do that if he does what the villain’s already planning on doing? Barry curls into himself, brain running on overdrive.

            ‘ _I can’t think of anything,_ ’ he thinks, _‘I mean, if the others were here, I’m sure they’d have something-_ ‘

            His eyes widen.

            “Maybe they don’t have to be.”

            Barry scans his memories, trying to bring up any sort of clue that could give him the solution to his problem.

            _Barry and Cisco are playing video games in Cisco’s apartment. It’s heated, and they are neck and neck. Barry, bursting with excitement, is bouncing in his seat. Cisco elbows him._

_“Could you quit it Bar,” he grumbles, “you’re vibrating is messing up my aim!”_

_“You sure that it’s my fault your aim sucks?”_

_Caitlin and Barry sit close together in a bar. She’s nursing her vodka tonic while Barry is already on his seventh bottle. They’re both still pretty sober. The guy approaching them, not so much,_

_“Hey hot stuff,” he slurs, “why don’t you let me have a look at your boobies, I’m a licensed inspector after all!” He swipes the fake ID in their faces before surrounding Caitlin._

_“As if, creep,” she pushes him, turning away. However, the guy doesn’t leave, and turns her back._

_“Hey, I’m talking to you!”_

_Barry decides it’s time to intervene. “Sir, please leave us alone,” he starts slowly, “you’ve clearly had too much to drink-“_

_“How d’you know nerd?” he barks, “I’m fine!”_

_He turns back to Caitlin, ignoring Barry. He can see his friend plead for help. He acts fast. He takes two fingers and taps the glass, vibrating it until it breaks. The drink splashes in the man’ face, and the glass cuts his hand._

_Eddie, Joe, and Barry are standing over a chalk outline. The body has long been carried away, but the clues remain. They’ve been going over the crime scene with a fine-toothed comb. It’s been around an hour when Barry thinks he sees the bullet. It’s lodged itself in the wall a few centimeters, and no matter how hard he pries, he can’t get it out. Eddie comes over not long after._

_“Having trouble?” he asks, smirking. He causally leans against the wall. Barry shoots him a glare._

_“It’s stuck.”_

_“Or are you just weak?” Eddie laughs._

_Barry’s mouth forms a tight line. He shakes, and hits the wall. It vibrates, and not soon after the bullet falls to the ground._

            “That’s it!” Barry stands.

            ‘ _If I vibrate my molecules fast enough,’_ Barry thinks, ‘ _I can ghost over the sensors!’_

Barry knows this would be a long shot, but he also knows that it is the only thing he can do at this point. He readies his body and centers his mind, letting the speed flow through his body. He can feel his body vibrate faster and faster.

            However, he doesn’t think it’s enough.

            He needs to be faster.

            ‘ _Come on, Barry… do this for the city. Do it for your friends, for Bruce… for Batman…”_

The thought of the other sends a warm rush down Barry’s spine. He almost jolts at the sensation, but thinks nothing of it when he feels his molecules vibrating faster and faster. Barry can feel himself disappearing into the air, his molecules so fast almost anything can pass through him. He feels like nothing.

            The first step does nothing.

            So does the next.

            He feels like he’s walking to the exit, when in actuality he’s running so fast he makes it to the exit in a nano-second.

            “Oh poo,” Joker’s voice cuts through, “I thought you’d never make it.”

            “Never doubt a speedster, clown,” Barry smirks.

            He walks forward, shoving open the double doors and into the bright light.

* * *

             Batman knows he’s getting closer to the Joker, and in due time: he’s not sure if he could fit a few more feet down the air vent.

            It had been a close call with the trap doors, and waiting for him on the other side of the doors were a bunch of Joker’s goons. Even on a day like today, it wasn’t too much for him. He was able to handle the low-level thugs Joker likes to carry with him. Even though one got a good stab at his leg, Batman was the only one left standing.

            And in that confusion, he jumped into the air vents, away from the Joker’s annoying eye.

            “Oh Baaaatmaaaaan!” he can hear, “Come out and plaaaaaaaaay!”

            He shimmies closer to the sound, and from the grate can see the Joker sitting on a large throne, microphone to his mouth and a bunch of televisions to his left.

            “Oh poo, I thought you’d never make it.”

            Batman is about to growl out a response when the doors open. He can’t see much, but it doesn’t take that long for Barry to come out front and center.

            “Give it up Joker!” he shouts, “I’m gonna take you down!”

            “You may have taken my ol’ Batsy from me, Flash,” Joker grumbles, tossing the microphone to his side, “but don’t even think you can handle the Clown Prince of Crime!”

            “Not alone he can.”

            Barry and Joker look up as the grate to the vent is smashed out. Batman pulls himself through, tumbling through the air until he lands on his legs. He falters, but stays upright. Barry notices and immediately goes to his side.

            “Your leg-“

            “Is fine,” Batman cuts him off, “focus on him, not me.”

            “But-“

            “Excuse me!” Joker yells, “I hate to interrupt you two lovebirds, but I happen to have my hand on the trigger!”

            Barry flushes bright red and turns back to face Joker. Batman stands his ground.

            “Give it up Joker,” he starts, “it’s two against one. You won’t win.”

            “Oh I wouldn’t think of it as that,” Joker laughs, “I prefer to think of it as… DATE NIGHT!”

            “Wha-“

            Just then a large mallet swings between the two heroes, separating them. The swinger is none other than Harley, although she looks none to pleased.

            “Ignore him,” Harley scoffs, “we’re on a break.” She lifts the mallet up and swings it at Barry, and he speeds out of the way.

            Batman is about to go after him when he’s caught off guard by a right hook. He falters, but doesn’t fall. He turns to the Joker, who’s cracking his knuckles.

            “Focus on me, Bat boy,” Joker grins, “or you’ll regret it.”

            Joker launches another assault, and Bruce dodges just in time. Batman kicks out a leg, catching the Joker’s jaw and sending him back a few feet. Batman follows up this volley with a bat-a-rang. The Joker whips out a paddleboard and catches it.

            “Too slow,” Joker sings, “shouldn’t you have learned something from that joke over there?”

            Barry is still dodging Harley’s swings. He tries to get a good jab or kick in, but she seems to flip away before he can get there.

            “Can’t you hold still?” he shouts.

            “No!”

            “You don’t even seem to like the Joker!”

            “I like getting paid!”

            Back with the Joker and Batman, they each exchange a few good blows. Joker gets in cheap shots: striking at Batman’s wounds. Batman, however, uses his skill and strength to gain the upper hand. He ducks an oncoming swipe, and launches an uppercut. It sends the Joker onto his back. He wastes no time, and quickly straddles him.

            “Ooh, getting a tad frisky are we?” Joker giggles, “are you sure we should be doing this in front of the ol’ balls and chains-gak!”

            Batman grabs his tie and drags the Joker close. He glares and grits his teeth.

            “Enough,” Batman growls, “Enough with the games, the jokes, the whole shtick. I want to know just what is going on. Why are Gotham criminals flooding Central? Who’s behind all the thefts? What are they planning?”

            The Joker starts out small, with a few chuckles, but soon it morphs into the maniacal laughing he’s well known for.

            “Oh, Batsy,” he seethes, “you really are blinded. It couldn’t be more _obvious!_ I’d tell you… but why should I let you ruin all the fun that’s coming!”

            Batman’s glare only hardens.

            Barry dodges another swing, rolling under it. He’s getting tired, and his sparring partner doesn’t seem to be losing any steam. Harley lifts the mallet over her head and swings. Barry swipes to the left, just missing the point of impact. It was a tough swing, and the crater it left only proves it. He acts fast, swiping his arm across the mallet neck. Vibrating his arm fast enough, he breaks the weapon in two.

            “No fair!” Harley shrieks, “I just paid off the loans on it!”

            “Karma,” Barry speeds behind her, “can be a real bitch.” He kicks her forward, forcing her into a collision course with a bruised Joker Batman had tossed only seconds before.

            They hit, and fall to the ground in a tangled mess.

            “Oh Harley, you idiot, get offa me!”

            “You’re on _me_ you no talent hack!”

            “No talent-“

            _SMACK!_

            “You. Did. Not!”

            Harley detangles herself from the Joker, but only for a second. In the next beat she has her hands around his neck, throttling him.

            “That does it!” she shrieks, “I told you what would happen-I TOLD YOU!” He tries to get up, but she clings with a vengeance.

            Barry makes his way over to Batman, who’s swaying on his feet.

            “Should we?”

            “Give it five,” Batman smirks, “I could use the break.”

            Barry’s about to chuckle when he catches something move out of the corner of his eye. Joker reaches into his jacket pocket, pulling out the trigger. Then, it seems like slow motion. The Joker’s thumb moving towards the button, Harley’s expression., and even Batman get lost in the dust as Barry jumps into hyper-speed. He rushes out of the room.

            “Flash!” Batman turns, his cape whipping from the wind, “Flash!”

            “He’s too late Batman,” Joker laughs. Harley had fallen off of him, and she looks scared. Batman notices the trigger in his hand. He reaches for the bat-a-rang.

            “Too late!”

            He hits the button. Even from where they’re stationed, the three feel the shockwaves, and hear the explosions. It’s followed by the sound of Batman’s heart, shattering in his stomach.

            Joker has dropped the trigger, and he stands there, clutching at his stomach, laughing and crying. Batman sees red. He stalks towards the Joker and punches him in the gut. He gets on his knees and begins his onslaught. He loses track of the punches and where they land. The only thing he remembers besides the red was the hands on his arms, pulling him away.

            It takes time, but Harley manages to pull the Batman off of Joker. He’s lying in a pool of his own blood and a few teeth, but he’ll live.

            “Jeez Batman,” Harley grits, “I don’t like the guy too, but we all know how you feel about killing!”

            This stops him.   He takes a look at the Joker, then at his hands, covered in the Joker’s blood. They’re shaking. He struggles to take a breath. That’s when he hears the boots skidding across the surface.

            “The city’s safe-“ Barry says, “what… what happened?”

            Batman doesn’t know how to explain.

* * *

             The cops are waiting for them outside the tunnel. They cart the thugs away in one car, and bring another for Harley. She’s in chains, but she’s not going silently.

            “I request that I be sent to Blackgate Prison, and NOT Arkham!” she’s shouting, “I, Harleen Quinzel, of sound body and mind, state that I am not crazy and do not need psychiatric help.”

            “Tell it to the judge, lady,” the cop shoots back, putting her into the back of the police vehicle.

            The Joker received his own truck, but it takes forever for him to get into it and drive off.

            Barry and Batman watch the final car as it speeds out of the park. They’re sitting on top of a nearby building, the silence tense between them. Barry’s kicking at the gravel on the roof, while Batman keeps his fist balled at his sides, and stares into the night.

            “So…” Barry starts, “today went well.”

            Batman shoots him a glare so fierce it almost sends him running scared.

            Almost.

            “Please,” he grits, “tell me just what about any of that was _well_.”

            “The bombs detonated safely in the water,” Barry recounts, “and we caught the bad guys! I say that’s a win in any book-“

            “Not in mine.”

            Barry looks at Batman confusedly. He moves closer, and tries to put his hand on Batman’s shoulder.

            “What’s wrong-“

            “What’s wrong?” Batman turns on him, “you could have gotten yourself killed Barry!” Barry recoils his hand in surprise.

            “But I didn’t.”

            “Just because you didn’t now doesn’t mean you won’t in the future,” Batman whispers, losing heat, “you took too big of a risk-“

            “Too big of a?” Barry asks, hurt, “Batman, to protect my city there’s no risk that’s too big.”

            “Even if it could cost you your life?” Batman asks, “What if one day, down the line, you just disappear huh? What then?”

            “What are you talking about?”

            He’s quiet for a beat, but soon Batman breaks. “I saw the newspaper,” he admits, sounding small, “you disappeared.”

            Barry shrugs, “And?”

            “And?” Batman shouts, “And? You know you’re going to disappear, maybe even _die_ , and all you can say is ‘and’!”

            “That’s all I _can_ do,” Barry fights back, “Until I know what it is that makes me disappear I can’t do anything about it. And even if I do, I can’t just hide in fear if it will cost me my city and the people that I love. Wouldn’t you do the same for the people you care about? For the city _you_ protect?”

            “It’s different,” Batman argues, “You’re different.”

            “How? How am I different?” Barry asks.

            Batman glares fiercely at Barry, but all he can say is: “Because.”

            “Because?” Barry flips, “That’s all you can say!”

            “I don’t need to explain myself to you,” Batman stalks away, “Hell, I don’t even need to work with you.”

            “Then why do you?”

            “Like I said, I have my reasons-“

            “Bullshit!” Barry fumes. He stomps over to Batman and turns him around. He gets up in his face. “I have had it up to here with _your_ games, Batman. One second we work well together, and the next you’re pulling this… this macho vigilante crap. I want answers! I want to know why! Why are you here? Why do you keep showing up wherever I am? Saving me? Why? Tell me, why? Why-“

            Batman cuts him off.

            With his lips.

            Barry’s shocked at first, eyes wide open. But soon the heat starts to tingle across his body, and lightning crackles within his heart. He starts getting into the kiss, eyes sliding shut. He wraps his arms over Batman’s shoulders and returns the fervor. He can feel a knee slipping between his legs, pressing, and he moans-

            Batman pushes him away like he’s been burned.

            Barry’s in a daze, and it takes him a few seconds to get his bearings. His eyes refocus on Batman’s face, and the horrified look he has plastered on.

            “I-I’m,” Batman gulps, “I have to-“

            He leaves. Barry doesn’t know how, wrapped up in his own thoughs.

            His fingers trace his lips. They tingle. They’re still burning from the kiss, sparking with pleasure.

            It’s at this time the comm link comes back to life.

            “Barry?” he hears, “We lost contact, but everything seems to be alright.”

            He sinks to his knees.

            “Barry?”

            “Barry?”

            “Barry!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It has FINALLY happened.  
> Happy?  
> I can't tell you how long I've been waiting to write this chapter, to get it right. It had two of my favorite scenes in the entire work (the dream sequence and the confrontation between Barry and Batman).  
> Up next: The fallout of The Kiss


	16. How Did It End Up Like This?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barry goes through a frenzy of emotions after 'the kiss'. His friends and family don't know why he's acting so strange, or why he's been avoiding Bruce. But will a forced confession lead to more than one truth from getting out?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there folks!  
> This chapter was a wild ride, let me tell you, and was such a doozy to write. Some things went according to the plan while others might have changed while I was writing.  
> But let me tell you if you thought last chapter was a cliffhanger... whoo boy.  
> Have fun!

            The lab is silent. The machines are off, and only a single light shines above the work desk of Barry Allen. He’s hunched over a bunch of files, tearing at his lip with his teeth. A sandwich sits to his left, cold _._

He’s flipping a page when he feels them _: warm arms, snaking around his waist and the solid chest that settles behind his back. Unconsciously he leans back into it. The warmth spreads throughout, seeping into him. He closes his eyes and hums in contentment. The files slip through his fingers and onto the desk._

_“Barry…”_

_He can feel Bruce’s breath, ghosting over the shell of his ear. They hover so close, but don’t touch. Barry tingles with pleasure. He takes his hands and wraps them around Bruce’s. They spark, and Barry can feel lightning bolts racing up his arms and into his heart. It’s a sensation he’s never felt before, not even when running. It feels… it feels right._

_Barry turns in Bruce’s hold, gazing into his eyes. Their faces are inches apart. Barry moves in first,_

_He’s past the speed limit and is only going faster._

_The kiss might have lasted hours, or seconds, Barry couldn’t tell. He closed his eyes the second his mouth was on Bruce’s. Pulling away, Barry gasps sharply._

_“Barry…”_

_His eyes spring open. It isn’t Bruce staring at him lovingly._

_It’s Batman._

_**CRACK!**_

            “Gah!”

            Barry jumps from his desk, knocking the sandwich off the table. He knocks the stool over and sprawls onto the floor. He’s on his front. Barry looks up just as another bolt of lightning strikes, this one closer. Rain pounds heavily on the large windows.

            He’s pulling himself to his feet when Joe walks in.

            Joe stands under the archway, “Did I walk in on something or…?”

            “I’m fine, Joe,” Barry says, standing, “startled, is all.” He brushes his hands on his pants. He notices the sandwich on the floor and bends back down to pick it up.

            “Really?” Joe quirks a brow, “of a little lightning?”

            “Remember what happened in here the last time there was some lightning?” Barry cracks, dumping the food into a nearby trashcan.

            “I do,” Joe nods, walking closer, “Maybe this time _I’ll_ get the super speed.”

            “Stick to your day job, Joe,” Barry pats at his back, “So what are you up here for? Need someone to run a few tests? It’ll take a few minutes to turn everything back on again but I don’t mind-“

            “Relax, Barry,” Joe stops him, “I came up here to check on you. You’ve been in the lab for over seven hours.”

            Barry blinks. “Really?”

            “Really.”

            “Oh.”

            Barry scuffs his foot across the floor. Its squeak echoes in the room.

            “No plans tonight?” Joe tries, hands stuffed into his pockets.

            “No,” Barry answers, a little too quickly, “just thought I’d catch up on some work. I’ve been putting a lot of things off lately, what with all the recent bad guys, and I should really focus on putting away some of the other bad guys because why should I focus on just the ones with superpowers? And-“

            “Barry,” Joe cuts him off, “Stop.”

            “What?”

            “Stop,” Joe continues, “All… _this_. You’re driving yourself crazy. You’ve been spending more time in this lab than anywhere else. You know you can take a break every now and then, right? I mean, when’s the last time you had a date with Bruce-“  
            “He’s away,” Barry lies, looking away, “Business in Gotham. He said it’s taking a really long time-longer than usual. Might be away until… who knows when.”

            “Did he?” Joe asks.

            “Yes.”

            Barry fiddles with the files. He can feel Joe’s questioning stare burning a hole in his back. He doesn’t turn to meet it. A few seconds pass before Barry can hear Joe’s sigh.

            “Alright,” Joe concedes, “Just-just take it slow, Bar.”

            He hears Joe close the door behind him.

            Barry breathes out. He leans against the desk, bracing his head up against his fists.

            His body shakes. Gone was the warmth from his dream, instead a cold dread has passed over him.

            ‘ _This is getting ridiculous_ ,’ Barry thinks, ‘ _I can’t let this take over my life._ ’

            But he does. Ever since he stopped Central City from blowing up, Barry’s been on edge. He’s spent less time with his friends and family, and no time with Bruce. Every time he even thinks of him he feels… he can’t explain it.

            With Bruce, Barry feels safe, he feels warm, he feels loved. He loves Bruce. He never thought he could feel this way about another person. He never knew anyone could feel this way.

            Which is why this whole situation with Batman has him questioning… everything.

            Batman’s kiss was like striking a match at a gas station. His heart raced, he couldn’t think, and his skin craved more. He stayed on that rooftop for another ten minutes, confused, until Joe and Eddie found him. They tracked him there after Barry went silent on the comm-link. He never told them why he didn’t answer. How could he, when he was still coming down off of the greatest high in his life?

            Kissing Bruce was one thing, but kissing Batman was something else.

            And it’s tearing him up inside.

* * *

 

            The bell jingles, announcing another customer. Eddie shakes the rain off his jacket as he moves further in. He spots Caitlin and Cisco at a table by the window and joins them. Caitlin hands him a mug, and he thanks her with a hug.

            “So,” he asks, “what’s the emergency meeting about?”

            “What’s the rush,” Cisco smirks, “you got a date or something?”

            “As a matter of fact, I do,” Eddie fires back.

            “Really?” Caitlin asks, sipping at her tea, “does it happen to be with that policewoman we’ve been hearing so much about?”

            “I-uh,” Eddie blushes, scratching his head, “How’d ya-how’d ya hear about her?”

            “Barry,” Caitlin answers, smiling.

            “That motor mouth,” Eddie grumbles. He takes a large gulp of his coffee.

            “Are we talking about the same Barry?” Cisco jokes, “Because if we are, then you must be sorely mistaken.”

            “What?” Eddie asks, “Did something happen?”

            “Yes.”

            Joe takes his seat, throwing his jacket on the fifth, empty chair. He grabs at a cup and drinks. They all stare at him.

            “And?” Caitlin asks.

            “And what?” Joe shrugs.

            “What happened?” Cisco explodes, “You can’t just drop in with a bombshell like that and say nothing!”

            “I can if I don’t have anything else to say,” Joe frowns.

            “So you know something happened,” Caitlin asks.

            “Yes.”

            “But you don’t know,” Eddie guesses, “what exactly?”

            “You got it.”

            They sit in silence, the sound of rain hitting the window the only thing between them. Cisco is the one to break it.

            “I think it has something to do with Batman.”

            Everyone turns to stare at him, and he explains further.

            “For me, it all started when Barry walked into the lab, after putting those clowns away…”

            _Caitlin and Cisco were at their stations, on edge from the night’s events. Barry had gone silent early into his and Batman’s adventure, and only by listening to the news did they find out that the Flash saved the day. They expected Barry to be back on the airwaves, but each passing second without contact led them to believing the worst._

_Until they traced his signal: still active, thankfully._

_And it was coming closer and closer to-_

_Barry skids to a halt inside STAR Labs. The scientists jump up to greet him._

_“Barry!” Cisco yelps, “Thank God-“_

_“We were so worried!” Caitlin finishes, “You didn’t answer us when-“_

_“Right, right, sorry,” Barry cuts them off. He’s not looking at them, and he’s shaky on his feet. Cisco and Caitlin exchange looks._

_“Are you… okay?” Caitlin moves closer to him, “Did anything happen-“_

_“Nothing happened,” Barry snaps, turning. His cheeks are flushed and his eyes are wild. “Why would you think something happened? I mean-things happened. They happen all the time but the usual things that happen not-not things you would think to think about and-“_

_“Whoa there, Bar,” Cisco interrupts, “Slow down. We’re only asking-“_

_“Asking what?”_

_“Asking how you’re feeling,” Caitlin answers, on him, “You’re acting strange and,” she places a hand on his cheek, “you feel warm. You look ready to fall over do you want a seat?”_

_“No, no,” Barry shakes her off, “I just-I just need to rest. I came here to… to…” He looks around, lost._

_“To… change?” Caitlin hazards._

_Barry doesn’t say anything, but his meek nod signals he’s heard her. He stays planted to the spot._

_“Do you,” Cisco swallows, “Want to go change, buddy?” He steps closer and reaches out to Barry. He grabs Barry’s arm, and feels a jolt._

_**The room is poorly lit and looks disgusting. He can see a poorly constructed throne off to the wayside. The real action happens in the center of the room. Cisco can make out Batman, his entire frame shaking. He’s being loosely held by a small, blonde woman. On the floor opposite him is the Joker, lying in a pool of blood.**_

**_Flash sprints over to the Joker, and Cisco can see him put his finger over his pulse point. He’s wound tight, but relaxes soon enough. He turns on Batman._ **

**_“What was that, huh?” he asks Batman, “What happened?”_ **

**_Batman doesn’t answer him. Instead, he shrugs out of the woman’s hold and stumbles out of the room._ **

**_Cisco sees all the fight drain out of Barry, leaving confusion and-_ **

_“What did you see?”_

_Cisco is pulled out of his vision by a frazzled Barry. He looks at Cisco with wide eyes. His lip is trembling._

_“Did,” Cisco starts, “Did Batman really-“_

_Barry’s out of his costume and out of the lab before he can finish his question._

            “I think he’s spooked,” Cisco says, “If Batman can go berserk like that with no reason… I mean, it explains why he’s been avoiding spending so much time in the suit.”

            The group takes Cisco’s story in with grim expressions. Joe looks darkly at his cup while Caitlin shifts awkwardly in her seat. Eddie, however, clears his throat. He grabs their attention.

            “I don’t know about that,” Eddie starts, “But I do remember Barry doing something weird-weirder than the weird we’re used to. And Batman wasn’t around.”

            _Eddie was finishing up his sandwich and his reports when he catches glimpse of her. Someone he’s been trying to spot for over two weeks: Patty. He swallows hard and drops everything. In a rush, he bangs his knee on his desk. But even in pain he manages to stop her before she gets any farther._

_“Patty!” he calls out, “Hey! Patty!”_

_She turns, eyes widening. She points to herself in question, as Eddie gets closer._

_“Yeah, you,” Eddie laughs, “who else would I be yelling for?”_

_“Sorry, it’s just,” Patty smiles, “Didn’t think you’d talk to me outside of dangerous situations.”_

_“You kidding?” Eddie laughs, a little too hard. He coughs, noticing Patty’s confused stare. “I mean, not that you aren’t one of the best people to talk to in a crisis,” Eddie continues, “You’re really level-headed and had great control during the Joker thing. I mean, have you ever thought of being a detective?”_

_“I have!” Patty brightens, “I’ve always wanted to become a detective. I’m actually working on it right now.”_

_“Really?” Eddie smiles, “I remember when I was working on my jump from cop to detective, was awake almost all hours of the night studying for my detective’s exam.”_

_“I heard those were hard,” Patty pouts, “Things make sense when I read them but I have this bad habit of psyching myself out before tests.”_

_“Really?” Eddie blinks, “But you’re so confident?”_

_“Have to be in this line of work,” Patty smiles, “but you can’t be your best self all the time: sometimes you slip up. For me, that happens when I find myself on the other end of an exam paper.”_

_“Well, I mean,” Eddie shrugs, looking away, “I’ve been known to be a great cheerleader. I’m sure I could… give you a few tips and-“_

_“And maybe do a split and a yell?” Patty giggles, cheeks pink. Eddie bites back a cheeky grin. Instead, he ducks his head, nodding. He pockets his hands and scuffs at the floor with his shoe._

_“Well, that’s very kind of you, Detective Thawne,” Patty starts, “but I’m not taking the detective’s exam for at least another two months…”_

_“Oh?”_

_“But,” she smiles, “I’m sure we can meet up before then?”_

_“Definitely-“_

_**CRASH**_

_The two look over to the entryway, where a familiar scene plays out. There are papers scattered all over, some still fluttering in the air. Eddie can see shards of a broken mug rolling far away. Singh towers over someone on the floor, face red and features wild. Inching closer, Eddie can make out Barry on the ground. His eyes are glued to the floor, and Eddie can clearly see he’s shaking. Singh is not holding back._

_“-My favorite mug: a gift! And you’ve managed to contaminate key evidence with my coffee! This is sloppy work, Allen! Sloppy! Get your head out of whatever cloud it’s in and concentrate!”_

_He storms back to his office, sending officers that were watching into a whirlwind of work to cover their tracks. Eddie doesn’t hide it. Instead, he grimaces and places a hand on Patty’s arm._

_“We’ll talk later,” he tells her._

_Out of the corner of his eye, he sees her nod. He moves towards Barry, and gets on his level. He doesn’t pry, but helps him clean up his mess. He makes sure to avoid the coffee puddle, choosing instead to pull the papers and the plastic dishes from it._

_“Hey, Bar,” he starts, “it doesn’t look… completely… ruined.”_

_Silence._

_“I’m sure you’ll still be able to use it.”_

_Barry still doesn’t respond. Eddie frowns, and continues picking things up. He’s reaching for a piece of paper when he sees a drop of something fall onto it._

_It’s a tear._

_Eddie looks at Barry as he continues to shudder. The tracks are small, but Eddie can see Barry’s barely holding it together._

_“Barry…”_

_The elevator dings, and Eddie can see Bruce slip past the doors._

_“Hey Barry, don’t worry,” Eddie tries one more time, hand on Barry’s shoulder, “I’m sure Bruce’ll make you feel-“_

_Barry whips his head up. His eyes are wide, and he’s stopped crying._

_“Bruce?” he whispers, “He’s-he’s here?”_

_“Yeah?” Eddie answers, “Why wouldn’t he-“_

_“Tell him-tell him I’m busy,” Barry stands, “that I’m out.” He dropped everything back on the ground and practically runs towards his lab. Eddie stands as well, following Barry with his eyes. He stays glued to the spot until someone bumps into him._

_“Sorry, Eddie,” Bruce says, “I didn’t mean to-what happened here?”_

_“Uh,” Eddie stalls, “I… I had slight fall. Dropped some files and-and coffee. Don’t worry ‘bout it-what’re you doing here?”_

_“I’m here to see Barry,” Bruce says slowly, “he is here, isn’t he?”_

_“I wouldn’t say that…” Eddie starts._

_“Well, what would you say,” Bruce asks, “I need to speak with him. It’s-it’s important.”_

_“I,” Eddie starts, then stops. He grimaces, weighing the options in his head. In the end, he makes a choice. “I might have seen him in his lab,” he says, “but I don’t know if he’s still there.”_

_Bruce nods, and heads for the stairs._

_Eddie doesn’t see Bruce until at least a half-hour later. He descends, looking defeated, and without Barry._

            “And that was three, maybe four days ago,” Eddie shrugs, “no Batman whatsoever.”

            “But you said Bruce was there?” Joe leans forward.

            “Yeah,” Eddie nods, “strangest thing. You’d think he’d be jumping up and down that Bruce decided to visit but he looked ready to vomit.”

            “That is odd,” Joe starts, “Especially since Barry told me earlier that Bruce was away in Gotham for business.”

            “He did?” Caitlin asks, “Why would he just… lie, like that?”

            “And more importantly,” Cisco adds, “why is he avoiding Bruce?”

            “I don’t know,” Joe sighs, leaning back, “And I don’t think we’ll ever know until somebody tells us.”

* * *

 

            Barry sits on the sofa in sweats, swathed in blankets. He’d woken up that morning with a headache, and decided to cash in on one of his many sick days. He needs one with the week he’s been having.

            Especially since Joe decided to start sticking his nose into Barry’s moping.

            Barry’s been doing fine all by himself, he doesn’t need concerned family and friends finding out just how much of a mess he is inside. He’s got it handled.

            He’s moved past the throwing himself into work phase and has moved into the ice cream and chocolate phase. The fact that he’s watching bad romantic comedies on a loop just proves he’s a glutton for punishment.

            Besides, it beats thinking about Bruce. And by not thinking about Bruce he also doesn’t think about Batman. Because when he thinks of the two of them, together, his head starts to hurt.

            Like it is right now.

            “Ugh!” Barry throws his head back, fingers massaging at his temples.

            For someone with accelerated healing, Barry has been dealing with this headache for far too long. Usually it would come and go after a bad dream, but ever since the… well, it’s been more common as of late.   

            And Barry cannot begin to fathom why?

            “Maybe it’s just my body giving me the punishment I deserve,” Barry mutters to himself. He unwraps another chocolate bar and takes a huge bite.

            Avoiding the problem has done nothing but make Barry feel awful. Every missed call and unanswered text causes cracks to form in Barry’s heart. And his dreams-

            Bruce one second and Batman the next-sometimes they’re there at the same time-and Barry can’t understand what it could mean.

            He’s missing something: something big. Without it, the answer is out of reach. But maybe if he could figure out what it is, he could start to understand. Although, he’d also be fine if somebody came right up to him and told him-

_KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK._

            “Barry?”

            Barry drops the spoon in his hand. It clatters to the floor, rocky road melting onto it. He’s frozen.

            “Barry? I know you’re in there,” Bruce continues from the other side of the door, “Joe told me you didn’t come in today-Barry, I need to talk to you.”

            Barry finds the confidence to move. He staggers to the door, collapsing silently in front of it. He places his back on it, and stares out into the house, wide-eyed.

            “Barry please,” Bruce continues, “You haven’t been taking my calls, answering my texts, and-and I _know_ something happen-something _must_ have happened.”

            Barry gasps. He throws his hand in front of his mouth as quickly as he can, but he knows Bruce heard.

            “Please, Barry,” Bruce says, “I need to talk to you-face to face. You must be beating yourself up and-and I can’t take it Barry, please, let me in! Let me-“

            He cuts off. Barry turns his ear closer to the door. He’s close enough he can hear the soft ‘ _Dammit_ ’.

            “I have to go, Barry,” Bruce says, solemn, “I really don’t want to leave before we talk but… please, next time, we have to. I lo… I really _care_ about you, Barry.”

            Barry can hear Bruce walk away.

            He lets the tears fall.

* * *

            STAR Labs is silent. Joe, Eddie, Cisco, and Caitlin stand around the center, giving one another similar serious looks. Caitlin is the first to speak.

            “Are we really doing this?”

            Joe nods, “Yeah. Send it up.”

            Caitlin returns his nod, then moves towards a nearby workstation. She pulls something up and starts typing. She hits the final key, and the room is bathed in a red light.

            Soon enough Barry zips into the room.

            “What’s going on?” he asks, “What’s the emergency? Where do I need to go-“

            He sets his eyes on the group. Caitlin shuts the alarm off and goes to rejoin them.

            “There’s,” Barry gulps, “there’s no emergency… is there?”

            “We’re sorry Barry,” Caitlin says, “It was the only way we could get you here-“

            “Well, next time don’t pull a false alarm,” Barry scoffs, walking towards the door. It doesn’t open.

            “Locked,” Cisco answers, “until we say so.”

            Barry turns to glare at them; “You do know I can just vibrate myself out of here, right?”

            Joe meets his stare, “You won’t.”

            “How do you know?”

            “Because even if you try and run,” Joe walks to him, “you know we aren’t going to stop until you tell us what’s wrong.”

            Barry stares at Joe. He turns back to the door and turns his glare on it. He breathes, and hangs his head, releasing his frustration. He turns back fully.

            “What?” Barry asks, walking forward, “Did each of you write a letter and at the end I break down?”

            Joe slaps him upside the head.

            “Don’t be rude,” Joe barks, “we’ve been putting up with your shit for the past couple of weeks.”

            “So?” Barry scoffs, “Nobody asked you to.”

            “Nobody has to ask us to do anything,” Eddie says, “We did it because we care about you.”

            “Which is why,” Caitlin steps in, “we organized this little… _get-together_.”

            “Call it what it is,” Cisco chuckles, “all we’re missing is Dr. Drew for this to be a real intervention.”

            “I don’t know why you guys thought this was necessary,” Barry folds his arms, turning away, “I was handling it-“

            “Barry you were not handling it,” Eddie cuts him off, “you’ve been distant, edgy, and even more emotional than usual.”

            “Than usual-?”

            “We just… hate seeing you like this Barry,” Joe steps in, “you aren’t yourself.”

            “And if anything happened,” Caitlin adds in, “we want you to know that we’re here for you.”

            Barry’s mouth turns into a grimace. He tries to shy away from them, but they surround him, circling him.

            “You really shouldn’t,” he tries, “I don’t deserve-“

            “Barry whatever happened,” Cisco says, “we’re by you one hundred percent.”

            “What he says,” Eddie nods, “we got your back, no matter what. Even if we have to fight off a cranky bat or a playboy billionaire.”

            “No, you don’t,” Barry tries, panicking, “you don’t understand-“

            “I knew Bruce didn’t deserve you Barry,” Joe says, “if you want me to do anything-“

            “I’m sure we can track Batman,” Cisco adds in, “that way there’s no awkward run in’s.”

            “Although maybe you’d feel better,” Caitlin says, “if you tell us what they did-so we know who to target-“

            “They didn’t do anything!”

            The group goes silent. They stare, wide-eyed at Barry. He’s red and shaking.

            “What?” Joe blinks, “Then what-why are you acting like this?”

            “They didn’t do anything,” Barry crumples, “It was me... it was all my fault…”

            “You?” Eddie laughs, surprised, “that-that can’t be. What did you even do-it couldn’t have been that bad-“

            “I kissed Batman, _that’s_ what I did!”

            There’s a beat of silence before Barry realizes what he said. He goes to cover his mouth, but it’s too late. And the group turns into a frenzy.

            “Barry I can’t believe you would do anything like-“

            “You kissed Batman! I can’t believe you had it in-“

            “How is that even possible? I thought he-“

            “Barry! Seriously!”

            They get louder, and louder, and closer. Barry feels his skin crawl, and his breathing starts to quicken. His heartbeat is pounding, and the shouting is being drown out by the blood rushing in his ears.

            “Please,” Barry groans, hands clutching at his ears, “Stop… I need… I need air!”

            He speeds away before they can say anything. He doesn’t go far though, stumbling to a halt just outside STAR.

            He leans against a wall, taking deep breaths. His body is thrumming with a sickening energy, pulsing all around until-

            He throws up what little food he was able to get down that day.

            “Aww that’s gonna suck to clean up.”

            He wipes at his mouth and rolls back against the wall until he’s flat against it. Then, he slowly starts to sink.

            He never wanted to tell them what he did, but now it’s there: all out in the open. And from their responses, Barry knows he should have kept it to himself. If he could have just held on a little bit longer, he’s sure he would have been able to come to his own answer. But they had to throw a wrench into his plans because they _cared_.

            Like Bruce.

            Barry scrubs a hand down his face at the thought.

            He’s about to berate himself more, but he’s brought out of his musings by nearby groaning.

            “Barry… help.”

            He stands at attention. Out of the shadows, Batman staggers out. He’s covered in cuts and scorch marks, his costume having been ripped and shredded in various places. He’s walking with a limp, and clutching at his right arm. There’s blood… there’s blood everywhere.

            “Please,” Batman whispers, “Need…”

            He starts to fall.

            Barry catches him just before he hits the ground.

            “Don’t worry,” Barry tells him, “I got you.”

            Without thought, he speeds back into the lab, Batman in his arms. It’s awkward to maneuver, but he gets him there. He’s in the center of the room, and startles the others out of their conversation.

            “I need some help over here!”

            They stare. But soon enough they snap out of their shock. Eddie rushes over to grab Batman’s other side, while Caitlin directs them where to go. They place him on the gurney while Caitlin moves as fast as Barry assessing the injuries. Cisco and Joe drag out any medical supplies they can, placing it where Caitlin tells them.

            “There’s,” Caitlin says, “There’s a lot of blood loss.”

            “Can you stop it?” Barry pleads.

            “I can, but,” Caitlin pauses.

            “What?” Barry asks, more desperate with each passing second.

            “The other wounds, I can patch up,” Caitlin says, “but the heaviest blood loss-it’s coming from his head. I need to remove his cowl-“

            “No.”

            “No?”

            “Caitlin, removing his cowl means revealing his secret identity,” Barry argues, “that’s a breach of his trust.”

            “And you playing tonsil hockey with him was-what exactly?” Cisco jokes, “Team building?”

            “He kissed _me_ , for the record,” Barry defends, “it’s just-I wouldn’t want someone to pull away my cowl-“

            “Even if you might die?” Joe asks, “Barry, I’m sure whoever it is under the mask will understand and thank us for saving their lives. But we won’t know unless we do _something_.”

            Barry bites his lip, and stares at Batman. He’s breathing, but barely. There’s still blood trickling down what little of his face can be seen. This close, he doesn't look like the Batman he got to know. He looks helpless, and it scares Barry in a way he doesn't know how to explain. It seems like forever, but he makes the decision in a few seconds.

            “Alright,” Barry concedes, “Just-let me do it.”

            No one argues with him.

            Barry moves over to Batman’s side, fingers gripping at the cowl. He pulls hard, the blood making it stick to Batman’s face. It takes a few pulls before Barry’s tearing the cowl away and- 

            “…No…”

            Barry drops the cowl and speeds away.

            No one stops him.

            They’re frozen, staring at the gurney where Bruce Wayne lies, bleeding.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FINALLY!  
> Now it's all out in the open-just not how Bruce hoped.  
> I wonder if Barry will ever forgive him (HINT HINT: Find out next chapter)  
> Also please let me know what you think, I felt a tad iffy with the latter half of this chapter and would love your feedback.  
> Kudos and comments!


	17. Rooftop Invitations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now that Barry and the team knows, what will happen? What will Bruce do? Will everything fall apart or is this just the next step for both Bruce and Barry?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for taking so long but let me just tell you how much of a DOOZY it was writing this chapter. Like there was one part I just kept re-writing because no matter how many times I wrote it I didn't like it. So I took a step back and did some other things and I came back and I finally liked what I wrote!  
> Let me just tell you know it gets ridiculous in terms of emotions the further down you get.  
> It also gets more physical so... if you aren't into that stuff, when you get to it, just keep going until you reach the next scene!  
> Enjoy!

            _BEEP… BEEP… BEEP…_

            Bruce stirs. He grimaces, pain shooting through his body with each movement. It takes a few seconds, but he manages to open his eyes. Then close them, because of the bright lights overhead. Then open them again, once he becomes used to it.

            He looks around, recognizing the room almost instantly. Although why he was in STAR Labs, Bruce hadn’t the foggiest-

            ‘ _Barry… please…’_

            Bruce shoots up, wincing. He’s frantic, searching for Barry. He tries to get up.

            “You’re awake.”

            Bruce stops. He looks to the doorway where Caitlin enters, holding a tray of medical supplies. She shoots him a wry look.

            “I wouldn’t if I were you Bruce,” she walks over to him, “might hurt yourself even more.”

            “Wha-?”

            He reaches for his face, gloves finding nothing but skin.

            “I hope you don’t mind,” Caitlin says, “we had to staunch a pretty large cut on your forehead-lift your arms up.”

            He does so in a daze. His muscles ache. His body cries out in pain from the previous night’s activities. Caitlin unwraps some gauze from around his chest, dumping the bloody fabric nearby.

            “You’ll probably feel some pain,” Caitlin warns, “we didn’t give you that much in terms of anesthesia, for Barry’s sake-“

            “Barry,” Bruce manages to say, throat scratchy, “where-where is he?”

            “Don’t know,” she says, clipped, “you can go anywhere in thirty-six hours.”

            “Thirty-” Bruce blinks, “I was out that long?”

            “Yes. Head, please.”

            Bruce bows, letting Caitlin remove and replace the strip wrapped around his forehead. He pays her no notice, mind racing on thoughts of Barry. He feels horrible inside. The pain from his fight can’t compare to what he feels in his chest right now.

            “I will say,” Caitlin thinks aloud, “this is much easier when you’re sitting.”

            “Huh.”

            “Caitlin?” Cisco calls out, walking in, “you finished with Billionaire Bat-cree-oh… you’re awake.”

            He doesn’t offer an apology. Bruce doesn’t expect one.

            “Is he ready for discharge Dr. Snow?” Cisco addresses Caitlin, walking to the other side of Bruce. She’s checking the stitches on one of his arms.

            “Not yet,” she answers, “probably need him under observation for another hour or two… _unfortunately_.”

            “Great,” Cisco rolls his eyes. He turns to Bruce, his utility belt in hand. Bruce hadn’t even noticed it was missing.

            “Thanks for the tech, Mr. Wayne,” Cisco snarks, “I think Flash definitely needed the upgrade.” Bruce doesn’t move to grab it, so Cisco just lays it on the bed behind him.

            “So…” Cisco continues, awkward, “want to tell us what happened?”

            Bruce breathes harshly. He doesn’t want to talk, stomach tumbling. But he can tell the two are curious. For Barry’s sake or theirs, he doesn’t care to pry. But he considers the former before telling them.

            “I was ambushed,” he starts, “I got an alert that Bane-one of mine-was in the city. He was spotted near a warehouse on the dock and I went to confront. I shouldn’t have. My mind was on… other things. I didn’t do so well in the fight-especially when some… weather-controlling criminal swooped in for support.”

            Caitlin and Cisco look at each other.

            “Weather Wizard?” Cisco asks.

            “You know him,” Bruce states.

            “An escaped meta,” Caitlin explains, “we thought he left the city, but…”

            “He’s back.”

            “Yeah,” Cisco nods.

            There’s nothing left to say on that matter. Cisco and Caitlin dawdle in the room. Bruce’s body still throbs from pain, the morphine drip empty.

            “Now,” Bruce grits his teeth, “is that all?”

            Cisco and Caitlin look at each other again, both uneasy.

            “For now,” Cisco answers.

            “Good,” Bruce nods, “if you’ll excuse me-“

            “No!” Caitlin moves forward, pushing Bruce back into a sitting position, “You really shouldn’t be moving about-“

            “Especially,” Cisco joins in, “if it involves you searching for Barry.”

            “Listen-“

            “No, you listen,” Cisco pushes back, “Barry’s a mess. Even more of one when he was driving himself mad because he thought he _cheated_ on you with your other half! The last thing he needs is to talk to _you_.”

            Bruce bites his tongue. He swallows, and looks away.

            “I don’t have to explain myself to you,” Bruce squints, “I don’t even need to stay here, especially if I’m not wanted.”

            “And turn you loose on Barry?” Caitlin frowns, “Not gonna happen.” She turns to the counter behind her, grabbing at a syringe. “Cisco,” she calls, “hand me the vial to your left.”

            “You got it,” Cisco looks away from Bruce, doing as Caitlin asks. He watches her fill the syringe, and then they both turn back to Bruce.

            If he was still there.

            “How the,” Cisco blinks, “come on! Not again!” 

* * *

 

            Barry’s bed has never felt more comfortable. He wants to stay there, forever. His bed wouldn’t hurt him, deceive him, crush his heart-at least, that’s what he reasons in the state he’s in. It’s better thinking of that then-

            “Dammit,” Barry curses at himself. He’s saved from walking down that dark mental path from a knock on his door.

            “Can I come in?” Joe asks from the other side.

            “No,” Barry responds.

            “I have drinks.”

            Barry chews on his lip.

            “Okay,” he says, much softer, “Come in.”

            Joe enters, two mugs in hand. He walks over and sits on the edge of the bed, wiping away a few wrappers and empty cartons. He smiles at Barry and offers him one of the mugs.

            “Hot chocolate?” Barry returns the smile, reaching for it, “I thought you would have brought in something a bit… _stronger_.”

            “I thought it might be nicer,” Joe shrugs, “but I also went off-recipe… added a liberal amount of vodka-“

            “You’re the best, Joe.”

            Joe huffs a laugh, and raises his mug towards Barry. Barry clinks his mug against Joe’s, then takes a healthy sip of his drink.

            They sit like that, drinking, in comfortable silence. Barry’s almost finished when Joe clears his throat.

            “So…”

            From his tone, Barry knows what he wants to say next.

            “No,” Barry interrupts, “Please-“

            “Barry,” Joe continues, “we need to talk about this.”

            “But I don’t want to,” Barry shakes his head, “it-it’s too fresh, it hurts-“

            “It’ll never heal if you’re too scared to confront it, Bar,” Joe argues.

            Barry sighs. He knows Joe is right. He doesn’t even know why he’s fighting this.

            He’s too tired to run away anymore.

            “Alright,” Barry says, looking at the mug, “let’s-let’s talk.” The mug shakes-he shakes.

            “Barry,” Joe starts, “I’m so sorry about what happened-“

            “You have nothing to feel sorry for, Joe,” Barry chuckles, “it’s not like you knew Bruce was gonna be on the other side of that mask.”

            “But I _did_ know that he was hiding something,” Joe continues, “maybe if I dug deeper, pressed harder, I would have-“

            “Would have what, Joe? Figured it out?” Barry looks at him, “I’m sure he’s hidden any evidence that could tie him to being Batman. He _is_ supposed to be the World’s Greatest Detective.”

            “But-“

            “There’s nothing you could have done, Joe,” Barry sighs, “stop beating yourself up-that’s my shtick.”

            “But _why_ are you, Barry?” Joe asks him, “Why are you wasting so much time and energy on this guy if he lied to you like this-about something so _big?_ About being Batman. _”_

            Barry looks away. He bites at his lip.

            “Well?”

            “I just,” Barry breaks, “I just don’t know what to do.”

            “Barry,” Joe sighs, moving closer. He wraps an arm around Barry, rubbing his hand comfortingly up and down Barry’s arm. Barry leans into Joe.

            “I know I should be angry with Bruce,” Barry says, “but I-I’m not! When I saw him there, with the mask in my hand, I didn’t think ‘how dare he’ or ‘the bastard’ my first thought was… ‘okay’. _That_ really scared me. I ran away because I _wasn’t_ mad. I just felt… relieved. That things like Bruce’s disappearances and Batman’s kiss finally started making sense to me!”

            “So why are you sitting here, moping?” Joe asks.

            “Because once the realization wore off,” Barry trails, “I… I was disappointed. That Bruce kept this from me for all this time-after everything we went through. And that he was able to look me in the eye while he knew who I really was and… and then the other thoughts came.”

            “What ‘other thoughts’?”

            “The ‘what ifs’,” Barry whispers, scared, “The thoughts that maybe Bruce planned this from the start. That maybe he’s been playing me since day one. That his heart wasn’t as involved in this as mine and-and-and-“

            “Shh, Barry, shush,” Joe calms him, threading his fingers through Barry’s hair. His shirt starts to get wet, but he doesn’t care.

            “And now half of me just wants him out of my life, and never see him again,” Barry sobs, “while the other half wants _him_ , right here with me because I can’t help but lo-“

            “You don’t need to explain yourself, Barry,” Joe soothes, “this is a very unique situation. Anyone would be… overwhelmed. You just, lie down and try to rest, okay?”

            Barry nods weakly.

            Joe gets up, taking Barry’s mug from him and walking towards the door. He looks back just as Barry turns over, facing away from Joe. He sighs, exiting.

            Back downstairs, Eddie, Cisco, and Caitlin wait around the table. They’re all on edge. They startle when Joe enters. They watch as he dumps the mugs into the sink, rinsing them before leaving them in there. He takes pause there, gripping at the counter, before turning to them.

            “How is he?” Caitlin asks.

            “He’s,” Joe starts, “He’s dealing.”

            “This is some real messed up shit,” Eddie shakes his head, “I can’t believe we didn’t see this coming.”

            “How could any of us,” Cisco offers, “He hid it well. That’s the point of a secret identity.”

            “Still,” Eddie fumes, “to lie to Barry like that. He wasn’t hiding a secret identity he was being a coward-“

            “Eddie,” Joe warns.

            “He was,” Eddie continues, “If anyone would have been able to understand it was Barry. Hell, even if Barry weren’t Flash he would have done anything for the guy. It just-it sucks.”

            “Yeah, well he still might,” Joe fires back.

            “What?” Eddie blinks, “What are you talkin’ bout?”

            “Barry,” Joe explains, “he might come round to Bruce. Or he might not. He’s… he’s confused, right now.”

            “Seriously,” Eddie scoffs, “after everything he did.”

            “Like going out with him, dealing with us, treating him with kindness and care, and all the other things you do when you’re in a relationship?” Joe says, “Look, I’m not defending him. I wouldn’t be the least bit upset if I never saw his face again, but up until now he made Barry _happy_.”

            “If that was his goal,” Cisco cuts in, “or not.”

            They were all thinking it, yet no one deigns to comment on it further.

            “Look,” Joe sighs, “it’s getting late.”

            “Yeah,” Eddie snaps, “I got a shift within the hour. I gotta go.”

            “Eddie-“

            He’s out the door before Joe could stop him.

            Cisco and Caitlin move over to Joe.

            “You think Barry is going to be okay?” she asks him.

            Joe rubs at his chin, “We can only wait and see.”

            “Alright,” Cisco nods, clapping Joe on the arm, “We’re heading back to STAR to see if we can check on where Bruce is. We’ll call if he’s anywhere near here.”

            “Please, do.”

            Joe bids the other two a goodbye before heading to the liquor cabinet. He pours himself a healthy amount, then sits in the living room to whittle the night away with bad television.

            Upstairs, Barry tries to sleep.

            The darkness behind his eyes only serves to remind him of Bruce. 

* * *

 

            Bruce sits in the darkness of his hotel room. No lights are on, and he’s blocked out any errant streetlights by shutting the blinds and drawing in the drapes. He’s brooding.

            “You’re brooding,” Alfred points out, “Again.”

            Bruce makes no move to regard him. Alfred sighs.

            “I thought we were past all that,” he moves to the drapes, “what with Barry and all-“

            Bruce’s growl tells Alfred all he needs to know.

            “Trouble in paradise, sir?”

            “Not now, Alfred,” Bruce mutters. He grabs for a nearby drink, and finishes it within seconds, only wincing once.

            “I do believe now is the perfect time,” Alfred moves closer, “while you’re still coherent, that is.”

            “Alfred, drop it,” Bruce glares at him, “that’s an order.”

            “As if I listen to those,” Alfred mocks him, “out with it Bruce. I’m not above grounding you like I did when you were younger.”

            Bruce pouts up at Alfred, and the butler cannot help the pang in his heart: he looks so much like the young boy he raised.

            In the end, Alfred wins. Bruce huffs a breath before looking away.

            “He knows.”

            “Ah.”

            Bruce doesn’t offer anything else after that. He glares into the darkness, challenging it for an answer. Alfred raises a brow at his antics.

            “And you’re here doing… what exactly?”

            “Nothing.”

            “Don’t you think your time would best be spent explaining to Master Allen your reasons behind donning the cowl and keeping it secret?”

            “No.”

            Alfred’s mouth falls. He harrumphs.

            “Well, why sir?”

            “It doesn’t matter,” Bruce says, “all I’ll be doing is hurting him more. I don’t want to cause him any more pain than I already have.”

            “Are you sure he isn’t waiting for you to explain, Master Bruce?” Alfred asks.

            “Because, Alfred,” Bruce snarls, “if he was willing to hear an explanation from me, everything would be fine.”

            “And why is that, sir?”

            “Because I would have told him the truth instead of having him find out the way he did!”

            Silence. Bruce’s eyes widen at his outburst, and he slinks back into his seat. He stares down at his hands, clasped between his legs. Alfred throws his boss and pseudo-son a pitying look.

            “Oh, Master Bruce,” Alfred comes behind him, puts his hand on his shoulder, “if I do say so myself, you are being quite the imbecile right now.”

            Bruce glares down, still silent.

            “I have never seen anyone throw away this many chances at happiness as you do, Bruce,” Alfred continues, “in fact, I think this is a record-“

            “Lay off, will you,” Bruce shrugs him off, “what do you know, anyway?”

            “I know these past few months I have seen you smiling.”

            “What?”

            “Smiling,” Alfred continues, “Not that smirk you plaster on at parties when you’re playing the playboy or that grimace you get when terrorizing criminals in the night-a smile. The type of smile you used to have before.”

            “So I’m smiling more,” Bruce grumbles, shaken, “what difference does that make?”

            “It makes all the difference,” Alfred nods, moving forward. He kneels in front of Bruce, getting in his face. He grabs at Bruce’s hand and forces him to look at him.

            “Bruce, do you know what I do, every night, when you put on that cowl. I pray, because I never know if this will be the night I get the report that my _son_ won’t be returning home. I’ve seen it in your eyes-I’ve seen it in some of the eyes of my brothers on the battlefield all those years ago. It’s the look of a man who thinks he has nothing to lose. You throw yourself into the darkness and don’t care what it does to you. It worries me. Losing your parents drove me near mad, I don’t know what would happen if I lost you. Is that any way to lead a life? Is that the kind of example you want to lead for Dick?”

            Bruce is stunned. He watches as Alfred starts to break down in front of him. Tears fall, but he starts to smile.

            “But do you know what else has happened. I’ve seen the true Bruce Wayne come back to my life. Not the Bruce Wayne you think everyone wants to see-the boy I thought died all those years ago. Someone I believed was swallowed up by the darkness and would never return. And it’s all thanks to Barry Allen. He’s the light you so _desperately_ needed in your life. I used to worry that one day you would lose yourself in being Batman but now I see there’s a balance. You’ve found a way to balance the darkness in your life. And if you let Barry Allen walk away from you just like that, you’re only letting that darkness inside of you win. I ask of you, son, do _not_ let that happen.”

            Alfred tapers off after that, breathing heavily. He stares into Bruce’s eyes, hoping that he got through to him.

            Something flickers in Bruce’s eyes.

            He stands. Bruce offers a hand to Alfred and helps him up. He doesn’t let go, just staring at Alfred.

            Then he launches himself forward into a hug. Alfred is now the one who’s shocked, but soon enough he sinks himself into it. He clutches tight to Bruce’s back. He can feel the back of his shirt dampen, but that doesn’t matter.

            “Thank you, Alfred,” Bruce whispers, “Thank you… _dad_.”

            Alfred’s heart is fit to burst.

            Bruce starts to pull away. He wipes at his eyes.

            “If you’ll excuse me,” he chuckles, “I need to go do something.”

            “Good luck, son.”

            Bruce leaves the room.

            Alfred goes over to the lamp nearest the chair.

            He turns the light on. 

* * *

 

            The breeze ruffles Barry’s hair. He breathes deep of the night air, leaning back on the roof.

            He’s just outside his room. No one is up, Joe having gone to sleep hours ago. The moon hangs low in the sky, on its return trip. Barry can see a few stars; the other lights in the sky are airplanes or satellites.

            It’s been forever since he’s been able to sit like this, even if how he got here was seriously messed up. Some nights, Barry dreams of a life where lightning never struck him and where Eobard never murdered his mother. A life where he could just be… normal.

            But that’s all a life like that could be: dreams. He couldn’t go and change it. Not because he doesn’t have the powers but because he knows the normal life was never for him.

            No matter how strong the temptation might be.

            The window slides open behind him.

            “Don’t worry Joe,” Barry sighs, “I’ll be in soon enough.”

            “Is that so?”

            Barry’s eyes widen. He whips his head behind him. Joe isn’t at the window.

            It’s Bruce.

            “How’d you get in?”

            “I’m Batman.”

            Barry flashes back to a similar scene. It all seemed so lighthearted and simple back then. He should have known that he could never have anything that simple.

            “Oh.”

            Bruce looks at the space next to him.

            “Mind if I join you?”

            Barry shrugs, “You made it this far.”

            Barry returns to looking out at the empty street. Bruce sits gingerly next to him. Barry looks him over, and notices the yellowing bruises and the scrapes.

            “Recovering alright?”

            “Somewhat,” Bruce answers, “still hurts in places. Think I might have bruised my ribs a bit.”

            “Must suck.”

            “Only when I breathe.”

            Barry huffs a laugh. They taper off a bit, and let silence take over. Barry pulls his knees to his chest, wrapping his arms around his legs. Bruce leans back on his hands, letting his legs dangle off of the roof.

            “So…”

            “Fuck you.”

            “I… I deserve that.”

            “You deserve a lot more than that,” Barry sighs, “I’m just… ‘m tired. I’m… _mad_. I… I…”

            “What, Barry?”

            “Was any of this real?”

            Bruce startles. He turns to look at Barry. Barry’s not looking at him. His mouth is wavering, and Bruce can see the death grip he has on his hands.

            “What?”

            “Were _we_ real?” Barry whispers, “Or was this just… an excuse? A cover? Part of the mission?”

            “Barry,” Bruce stops him, “do you really think I would do something like that?”

            “Maybe?” Barry chuckles, tearing up, “Here’s the thing: I don’t know anymore! I have no idea what you could be thinking. I thought I did, but I’m now not sure if it was all just… wishful thinking.”

            “Barry,” Bruce sighs, “I…”

            “You what?”

            “I’m not going to lie to you,” Bruce nods, “not anymore. Yes, at first, our dinner was more of a distraction. I took your evidence from you, the leaves-“

            “I knew I didn’t lose them!”

            “And I thought going on a date with you would keep up appearances,” Bruce continues, “It helps that you’re very pretty. I never even considered you were the Flash until I saw you speeding off to face Firefly. I had heard reports of the Flash but never even considered he’d be you-“

            “But once you figured it out it must have been like a gift, right?” Barry accuses, “Keep up the profile and stick close to both the police and the superhero, and once your mystery was solved you fly back on home to Gotham, no one the wiser! Is that it?”

            “No you-you’re getting it wrong,” Bruce tries, “If I hadn’t had seen you I-I would have never even thought you’d be Flash-“

            “I never thought you’d be Batman, so now we’re even!”

            “And I never thought I’d fall in love with someone as thickheaded and stubborn as you but look where we are!”

            “You… _what_?”

            Bruce blushes, and looks away.

            “Bruce?” Barry asks, leaning in, “you said… do you mean it?”

            Bruce doesn’t look at Barry. He does get out a meek, “Yes.”

            Barry sits back, wide-eyed. He stares out into the night.

            “Well,” Barry says, after a considerable length of time, “I’m still sore about… everything- _but_ … you’re lucky I’m in love with you, too.”

            They fade back into silence.

            “This is… this is really screwed up,” Bruce shakes his head.

            “It’s a mess, alright.”

            They look at each other. Bruce is the first to break, giggling softly at first. It builds to a strong laugh, and even Barry couldn’t resist joining in. He was hesitant at first, but after a few seconds he’s at the same level Bruce is. They stay like that for a good amount of time. When it’s over, Bruce is clearing his throat and Barry wipes a tear from his eye.

            “For what it’s worth,” Bruce starts, “this wasn’t how I planned on telling you that.”

            “The part about being in love, or how you were Batman?”

            “Both,” Bruce says, “Ever since Tetch I’ve been trying to work up to it. But, when I… _Batman_ kissed you, I knew I had to tell you _immediately_. And I tried to, before, but… well, you know.”

            “And the other…”

            “Longer.”

            “How come?”

            “I was… I was afraid.”

            “You?”

            “The people in my life, the ones I love, they don’t stick around very long. And the ones that do I… I only end up hurting. I mean, just look what happened to _you_ , Barry. I didn’t… I never mean to do it, but it just happens. And for some reason it’s always… it’s always _Batman’s_ fault.”

            “Have you ever…” Barry whispers, “y’know, thought of giving him up?”

            “Have you?”

            “A bunch of times.”

            “ _Will_ you?”

            “…Fair point.”

            “I became Batman to protect Gotham, to make sure no other person, no kid has to suffer the way I did all those years ago. It’s hard in that town because it seems its every instinct is to spread darkness. So I had to become part of it to stop it. And it’s gotten better but… there’s only so much I can do. And I know it’s a sacrifice, but if I have to suffer so others don’t… I’m glad to wear the cowl.”

            “But then why were you so scared of saying… and telling me who you were?” Barry asks, “If anyone would have understood, I mean-“

            “I tried, once,” Bruce starts, “with someone I thought would understand, too. Her name was Silver… we were engaged. I… I loved her and she… well, I thought she loved me. I told her one night, when I came home a bit too late and she caught me. I didn’t want to hide it from her and I had been wanting to tell her for a long time and-so I did and… well, I’m dating you.”

            “You mean she?”

            “She yelled at me,” Bruce nods, “said she’d rather I told her there was someone else. That she couldn’t marry Bruce _and_ Batman. She made me choose, between her and Gotham, and when I did… she threw the ring at my face and I never saw her again.”

            “Oh, Bruce,” Barry sighs, taking Bruce’s hand in his. Bruce stares down at it with wide eyes. “Didn’t you,” Barry starts, “did you think I would…?”

            “Logically, I knew I had nothing to fear,” Bruce answers, nodding, “but every time I worked up the courage I… I just pictured my mother’s ring, on the floor after she-”

            “Stop it.”

            “Stop what?”

            “Making me feel bad for you,” Barry chuckles, “I’m supposed to be mad at you, remember?”

           “At least something’s going right,” Bruce laughs weakly. He wipes a tear from his eye. Barry stares at him, biting his lip.

            “If we’re being… completely, totally honest, now,” Barry starts, “I gotta say that when we started this relationship I… _also_ didn’t have the best of intentions.”

            “Come again?”

            “When I first met you,” Barry explains, “I had just been told by this girl who I _thought_ was the love of my life that she was … _going away_ for awhile. She told me she wanted to figure out her feelings, and being here wouldn’t give her the space she needed. Told me I should figure myself out, too. See if what I truly felt for her was what I thought.”

            “And? What happened?”

            “What do you think?” Barry holds up their joined hands between them.

            “Right,” Bruce nods, “This girl… who was she?”

            “Joe’s daughter, Iris,” Barry tells him, “The girl I was in love with for most of my life-until you showed up that is.”

            “I’m glad I did.”

            Barry smiles at him, “So am I.”

            They lean into each other. They’re close, and getting closer. That is, until a light breeze blows past, and Barry shivers.

            “Y’think we could go inside now?” Barry asks, blushing, “Forgot to bring a blanket.”

            “Sure.”

            Bruce enters first, then leads Barry back inside. They never let go of their hands.  Barry reaches for the other, and Bruce lets him have it. They stand in the center of the room and stare at each other.

            Barry feels calmer, now more than ever. He looks into Bruce’s eyes and sees nothing but love and devotion. It fills him with lightning: an energy he can’t contain. So he doesn’t.

            He leans across the gap and presses his lips against Bruce’s. Bruce is surprised, but soon enough falls into the kiss. It’s simple, at first.

            But then Bruce lets go of Barry’s hands and wraps them around his waist. Barry, now free, grips onto Bruce’s shirt as he deepens the kiss. They start to walk backwards until Bruce’s legs hit the bed. He falls back onto it. They don’t stop.

            “Mmmm,” Bruce moans between kisses, “You sure-nngh, we should be doing this?”

            “Oh… _oh_ -oh yeah,” Barry whispers, smiling, “just gotta… gotta… _gotta_ keep it do-own!”

            Barry starts on Bruce’s shirt. He unbuttons it as fast as he can, moving past Bruce’s lips to suck a mark onto his collarbone. When he finishes he sits up. Bruce wriggles out of his shirt while Barry pulls his off and tosses it away. He returns to what he was doing.

            “Barry…?”

            “What is it?”

            “I need… I need…”

            “Tell me what you need.”

            “I need you inside of me.”

            Barry stops. He reopens his eyes, and slowly looks up to stare Bruce. Bruce notices that Barry quit what he was doing, and looks down. He flushes bright red.

            “I’m sorry,” Bruce starts, “is this too soon-“

            “No, no,” Barry rushes, “I’m not-this is good-it’s just… really?”

            “Would you… would you rather be the other way around?”

            “What? No, I’m good to go with the-with the… yeah. It’s just, well I sort of always pegged on you being…” He trails off, then starts to giggle. “Heh, _pegged_ -“

            “Can you please not laugh, the moment’s already ruined enough.”

            “Right, right, I’ll just-I’ll go and get-I’ll be right back.”

            Barry’s only gone a second, but he brings what they need. On the bedside nightstand is a condom and a bottle of lube. Barry’s already spread a generous amount on his fingers.

            “Could you, y’know,” Barry gestures, “get your pants? I mean-“

            “Yeah, sure hold on.”

            Bruce kicks his shoes off and his pants follow. He also removes his underpants and socks for good measure. He flips them over, so now Bruce is straddling Barry. And, out of kindness, he takes Barry’s pants off as well. However, he does it much slower and with a considerable amount of kissing involved.

            “Come back up here,” Barry bats at Bruce’s head, “I forget what your lips feel like.”

            “You sure?” Bruce whispers, breath hot against Barry’s member, “I mean, I don’t think I’ve really shown you how thankful I am you’re still in my life.”

            Barry blushes. He feels a fire trail itself from his head down his spine.

            “I mean,” Barry smirks, “if you want?”

            That’s all Bruce needs before he plunges Barry’s dick in his mouth. Barry feels every part of him buzzing. He curls his toes, and releases a litany of curses as Bruce works the shaft up and down his mouth. Barry starts to regain control, but soon enough Bruce’s tongue wraps around him and he feels himself completely lose it.

            It’s been so long, that Barry knows he’s at his end, and can feel the pressure building in his groin. He’s about to come, but just like that Bruce pulls away and back up to Barry’s mouth. He kisses Barry filthily.

            “Why’d you stop?” Barry asks, dazed.

            “I didn’t want this over yet,” Bruce smirks, “Plus, your dick started vibrating, and I want to know what that _really_ feels like.”

            Barry doesn’t need to be told twice. He flips them over again so he’s back on top. He moves down and hitches one of Bruce’s legs over his shoulder. He spreads Bruce’s ass apart and dives in a finger. He works it back and forth, building up momentum and expanding Bruce’s hole enough he fits another finger in. Then another. He’s three fingers deep in Bruce’s ass when he hits his prostate.

            “Nnngghh!” Bruce bites his lip. He scratches Barry’s scalp and with one leg pulls him closer while the other kicks off to the side.

            “Like that?”

            “Don’t stop,” Bruce breathes, “I swear Barry keep going or I’ll-“

            “Okay, okay, sheesh,” Barry chuckles, “demanding, much?”

            He stays like that for a good while, pushing in and causing Bruce to see stars behind his eyes. For some of them he vibrates and Barry has to cover Bruce’s mouth because of his cursing. Barry’s so focused on his ministrations, he doesn’t notice Bruce is talking to him until he feels a wet spot form on his palm.

            “What?”

            Bruce muffles a response from behind Barry’s hand. Bruce glares and motions to it with his eyebrows.

            “Right sorry.”

            “I said,” Bruce growls, mouth free, “stop wasting time and move onto the main event.”

            “Whatever you say, my Dark Knight,” Barry smirks up at him. He pulls his fingers out and wipes them on his covers. He moves up to kiss Bruce on his mouth while he searches for his tools. He finds the condom first and pulls it close. He’s about to rip it with his teeth, but before he can Bruce grabs it with his teeth and pulls. Barry stares as Bruce spits the bit of plastic off to the side.

            “What?”

            Barry rushes in to give Bruce a very heated kiss, and slowly pulls away.

            “That was so fucking hot.”

            “You’re welcome,” Bruce smiles, “but if you could just…”

            “Right! Right!”

            Barry slips the condom out and onto his dick without a moment’s hesitation. He then reaches for the lube and rubs it onto himself as well. He positions himself, head teasing Bruce’s hole. He makes to start, but stops, looking up.

            “You good?”

            Bruce grits his teeth.

            “I’m good.”

            He’s about to enter, only to stop and look up again.

            “You sure you want to do this?”

            “I’m sure.”

            Another beat.

            “Bruce-“

            “Barry for the love of God just shut up and shove it in-nnngghhaaaahhh!”

            Barry didn’t even let Bruce finish, thrusting into him with great force and a smirk on his lips. They stay just like that, Barry’s hips doing all the work while he thrusts in and out of Bruce. Barry also takes a hand and starts rubbing Bruce’s dick, excess lube serving a very useful purpose.

            “I’m close, Barry,” Bruce whispers, “real close.”

            “Well then let’s get you there.”

            Without warning, Barry starts to vibrate. He sends earthquakes throughout Bruce’s body and lightning floods his veins. He bites his lip. Bruce can feel the pressure start to release.

            He grabs Barry and pulls him in for a kiss, to muffle the curses he screams as he paints Barry’s chest with his seed. Barry follows not soon after, Bruce’s clenched ass and wonderful tongue dragging him over the edge.

            They breathe heavily, both overcome with a heady tiredness. Barry pulls out and turns over, next to Bruce. He pulls the condom off and ties it, laying it next to the bed.

            “That was…”

            “Yeah.”

            Barry can feel his eyelids start to droop. He’s about to drift into slumber, when he feels Bruce start to move. He grabs Barry’s arms, and starts to pull them around himself. Barry pulls away.

            “What?”

            “Oh no, mister,” Barry slurs, “if we’re cuddling, then _I_ get to be the little spoon. No argument.”

            “Fine, fine,” Bruce rolls his eyes, pulling Barry in close, “demanding much?”

            “Hey!”

            “Don’t worry, I find it cute,” Bruce smiles. He kisses the crown of Barry’s head, “Love you.”

            “Love you, too.”

            Sleep comes easy to them both.

* * *

             Joe is at the table, newspaper in hand with a piping mug of coffee nearby. He hears the door open and looks up. Eddie strolls into the room, grabbing the coffee pot and going for a mug.

            “Why hello Eddie,” Joe snarks, “Please, join me for some coffee. Why yes, I made it myself. Oh, no, it was no trouble-“

            “Thanks Joe,” Eddie cuts him off.

            “No problem.”

            They sit in silence for awhile, each taking sips out of their respective mugs. Just as it all starts to go cold, Eddie clears his throat.

            “So,” Eddie starts, “any word from…”

            “No,” Joe answers, “it’s like he’s dropped off the map.”

            “He’s still in the city, that’s about as much as I can tell you,” Eddie huffs, “no word about him flying back to Gotham with his tail between his legs.”

            “Well I can’t wait to find him,” Joe leans in, “because when I do get my hands on that bat bastard, I don’t care how much money he has I’m gonna-“

            “I’ll call you after my meeting, okay?”

            Joe and Eddie lean back, surprised. Their eyes are wide and their jaws are dropped. They jump up and move towards the stairs. There are twin pairs of footsteps.

            “That works. I’d say we get lunch but with how I’ve been acting at work…”

            Barry comes down the stairs, followed by Bruce. He’s fixing his shirt, and all Eddie and Joe can do is gape openly at the pair.

            Bruce winces, “Sorry about that.”

            “It’s okay,” Barry smirks, “you just owe me a bunch of favors from now on.”

            “I can live with that.”

            They’re at the bottom of the stairs and just staring at each other. They start to move closer to each other just when Joe decides he’s seen enough. He coughs. Loudly.

            They jump apart. Barry leans back on the railing while Bruce slips onto the floor. He catches himself before he completely falls down, however.

            “Joe?” Barry blushes, asks, “What’re you-I thought you were-Why aren’t you at work?”

            “My shift’s not for another hour,” Joe starts, glaring at Barry then at Bruce, “what’s _he_ doing here?”

            “I’m, uh, just-“

            “We made up,” Barry cuts him off. He places a hand on Bruce’s shoulder and motions to the door. Bruce looks back at Joe and Eddie, then at Barry.

            “I’ll just… go.” He moves to give Barry a kiss, but thinks better of it and just pecks his cheek lightly. He leaves in a flash.

            Barry sighs, and turns to face Eddie and Joe. Their faces flash through a million of emotions it’s hard for Barry to pin one down. So he doesn’t.

            “I should get dressed,” Barry starts, looking away, “I need to go to work before I’m fired.”

            “Barry, wait-“

            “I’ll see you guys there!” He zips up and then down a few seconds later, and out of the house.

            Joe and Eddie stay where they are, rooted to the spot in confusion.

            They don’t see Barry at all that day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bruce has somewhat fixed things with Barry but now how will he get the rest of the Flash team on board?  
> I guess the only way you'll be able to find out is if you stay tuned for the next chapter!  
> I hope you liked it! Let me know by dropping a kudos or a comment, or both!


	18. Favors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barry and Bruce have picked up where they left off, only no one else really feels comfortable with the whole thing. Barry is upset that the others aren't as supportive, and Bruce wants the others to like him, if only for Barry to feel better. But things don't really go as planned... will things get better after Round Two with the people who beat Batman up in Chapter 16?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there folks! I'm sorry I haven't posted in, like, forever, but with what's been going on not just in my life but in the world, I've been busy. After I wrote Chapter 17 I tried to start on 18, but this was probably one of the hardest chapters to write because I didn't really have a plan for it. So while trying to get a feel for how I wanted it to go, I was also dealing with school work and *SURPRISE* I went overseas for most of January, and didn't really have any time to write! Australia was great, wish I had at least some time to write something that wasn't essays.
> 
> Anyway, I'm going to try and get Chapter 19 up at a reasonable time, but I make no promises because I'm taking two capstones, I have an internship, and the next chapter is just pure fluff, so just give me some time and some luck. 
> 
> Also, I see a lot of you have a lot of questions about Robin. He will be mentioned next chapter, but he won't appear again until the later chapters near the end of the story which *hint hint* is coming soon. This is the end of the 2nd Arc of the Story!
> 
> Enjoy!

            They’re all gathered in STAR Labs. It’s been a few weeks since Bruce had been there: broken, bloody and bruised. Now that he’s back, his body, as well as his relationship, have improved drastically. Bruce has perched himself on the arm of the chair next to Barry, watching a video of himself. Watching himself getting broken, bloody, and bruised.

            The others are in the room, albeit a bit farther away. Bruce can feel their eyes on him, and not the video. Where things have gotten smoother with Barry, the opposite could be said for his family and friends.

            “Wow,” Barry says, bringing Bruce back. He’s paused the screen and is smirking up at Bruce. “You really had a tough go of it, Mardon’s one of the worst metas we’ve ever faced.”

            On the screen, Bruce can be seen barely dodging a lighting blast from Mark Mardon, the Weather Wizard. Mardon floats at the corner of the screen.

            “But,” Barry keeps going, more perplexed, “I don’t think we’ve ever seen… that.”

            “Because you haven’t,” Bruce says, “I, on the other hand, know Bane very well.”

            The villain in question takes up most of the screen. His bulging muscles pour out of the tiny tank he wears, and the red eyes from his black and white luhcador mask seem to glow. There are tubes going in and out of his body, filled with a green substance.

            “Bane?” Cisco pipes in, finally, the first to do so, “Who came up with that?”

            “Unlike Central, Gotham’s villains have more of a say in their names,” Bruce turns to him.

            “He doesn’t look like a villain,” Eddie chimes in, “maybe a wrestler?”

            “He’s a smuggler,” Bruce explains, “from the island nation of Santa Prisca. Trades in a super drug called Venom.”

            “Is that what that green stuff is?” Barry asks. He’s pointing at the screen, at one of the tubes. Bruce nods.

            “So all those muscles,” Joe asks, “they’re fakes?”

            “They’re real,” Bruce grumbles, rubbing at a faded bruise, “Think of Venom as an advanced steroid: fast-acting and deadly.”

            “Not that deadly seeing, well,” Eddie smirks, looking directly at Bruce. Bruce returns the glare. Barry squeezes Bruce’s hand, before shooting Eddie a reproachful glare of his own.

            “Anyway,” Caitlin starts, walking between the three of them, “has there been any other word about them since, well…. That night?”

            “No,” Bruce finally says, turning away from Eddie and towards the computer. He brings up a file over the video feed. “No word on either Bane or your…”

            “Weather Wizard,” Cisco supplies with a smile.

            “Right,” Bruce says, mouth taught in a line.

            “Well, then,” Joe claps his hands together, “if that’s all-“

            “Joe,” Barry turns to him, “Maybe we could-“

            “Need to get back to work, Barry,” Joe says, heading towards the door. Eddie is right behind him as they speed out of the lab. Barry pouts at the empty doorway. He sighs and turns towards Caitlin and Cisco, only to see them grabbing their coats.

            “You guys, too?”

            “Sorry Barry,” Caitlin apologizes, one sleeve in to her coat, “Ronnie called last night and said he’d be coming by later. I still need to get something for dinner.”

            “And you, Cisco?”

            “Date,” Cisco answers, head down and away from Barry, “Y’know how it-well, bye.”

            They make like Joe and Eddie not soon after. It’s quiet with just Bruce and Barry in the lab. Barry rubs at his temples, leaning back into his chair. Bruce puts a hand on his shoulder and starts kneading into him. Barry lets out a relaxing sigh, and leans into the touch.

            “At least they’re willing to be in the same room as me,” Bruce offers.

            “I just,” Barry starts, “I want them to like you.”

            “Granted, they didn’t really care for me before-“

            “But now that everything is in the open-!“

            “Barry,” Bruce says, “we both knew that this wasn’t going to be an easy fix overnight.”

            Barry sighs and rests his head on Bruce’s side. Bruce keeps rubbing, and squeezes Barry’s hand with his other.

            “I know,” Barry says, “but that doesn’t mean I can’t want it. I’m happy that we’re being honest with each other but… I can’t really be happy until everyone is happy.”

            “You care too much,” Bruce chuckles.

            Barry huffs a laugh back. “Yeah,” he says, looking up at Bruce, “but you love me for it.”

            “I do.”

            They stay like that for a while. Bruce slows down his movements, ghosting his fingers over Barry. Barry lets his eyes close and he relaxes into Bruce’s touch. He can feel himself slipping, focusing on the rhythm. He’s almost fully asleep when Bruce suddenly stops.

            Barry blinks awake.

            “What is it?” he asks.

            “Just,” Bruce starts, “I’m trying to wrap my head around what I can do to get your family to like me.”

            “I thought you said it would take time?” Barry smirks.

            “I know,” Bruce grumbles, “but… I don’t like seeing you like this.”

            “Now whose the one who cares too much?”

            “Shut up.”      

            Barry laughs. He takes Bruce’s hand and presses a small kiss to it. He loosely links their fingers together and just looks at them.

            Then, his eyes widen.

            “I think,” Barry turns to Bruce, “I might have an idea.”

            Barry’s lips have curled up into a bright grin, his eyes crinkling and glinting with a mysterious shine. Bruce raises a brow. “I don’t like that look in your eye,” Bruce says, but seeing as I have no other options: what is it?” 

* * *

 

            Joe is lounging on his couch, beer in hand. A basketball game is on, but he’s barely paying attention. He’s staring at a postcard, addressed to him. It’s crumbled and flattened out, and now is held firm in Joe’s grasp. Joe’s so absorbed in it, he doesn’t hear the knock until it becomes a pounding.

            “Just a second!” he calls out. He shakes his head, then stuffs the postcard under a cushion. He sets the beer down and heads toward the door, trying to figure out who it could be. Barry said he’d be at work most of the day, Eddie out entertaining visiting relatives, Caitlin absorbed with a recent scientific paper and Cisco… well, being Cisco. He opens the door, and his expression falls for a second before plastering a grimace on.

            Outside the door is Bruce, holding a garment bag in one hand, the other raised in a fist.

            “Oh, good,” Bruce smiles, “Barry said you’d be home but I wasn’t sure after-“

            “Sorry,” Joe cuts him off, “distracted.” He eyes the bag, “What’cha got there?”

            “Well, since I’ve been spending so much time in Central these days, the company decided to host a banquet,” Bruce explains, “so as to ‘lay the framework between Gotham and Central’s newest relationship’-“

            “I take it they don’t just mean you and Barry,” Joe grumbles, leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed.

            “I-uh,” Bruce blushes, looking away. He scratches at the back of his neck. “N-no, actually,” he coughs, “more like an expansion of Wayne Corp in Central. But I invited Barry and,” he holds up the bag, “I picked up a suit for him. I’m here to drop it off.”

            “I’m surprised you didn’t just go visit him,” Joe raises a brow, “not like you two to be apart for this long.”

            “I thought it’d be easier for Barry if I brought it here.”

            “Barry could have picked up the suit and brought it home in less than a second.”

            Bruce blushes harder. He looks away from Joe’s searching gaze and shuffles.

            “May I please come in?”

            Joe takes him time, looking Bruce over: up and down. He’s racking his brain, trying to figure out Bruce’s angle. In the end, he figures he let the guy suffer enough… for now.

            “You know where it is.”

            Bruce rushes past Joe and up the stairs, head still down. Joe rolls his eyes and walks back to the couch. He plops back down, taking a long sip of his beer.

            The Central City Miners scored 3 points on the opposing team when he feels someone staring at him.

            He cranes his neck behind him to see Bruce standing under the archway, shifting on his feet. He’s looking anywhere but at Joe.

            “Anything else?”

            Bruce looks startled, but then hides it. He looks past Joe and at the television.

            “You watching basketball?”

            “No, water polo,” Joe snarks, “Yeah, the Miners are facing Coast City’s Clippers.”

            “Miners winning?”

            “Yeah.”

            The silence hangs, thick in the air. Bruce has a question on the tip of his tongue, but it’s stuck there. Joe watches as Bruce continues to torture himself. Joe sighs.

            “Barry you owe me,” he whispers softly, before turning back to Bruce. “Want to watch?”

            Bruce nods, briskly walking over to the sofa and sitting on the opposite side. He sits stiffly, his hands in his lap. Joe quirks a brow, but says nothing. He takes a sip and resumes watching the game.

            It’s halfway through the third quarter when Bruce makes a sound.

            “I used to play basketball.”

            “You did?”

            “When I was younger,” Bruce smiles, “in Gotham Academy’s Junior Division. I wasn’t that coordinated at six, seven years old, but my mom said I had a lot of enthusiasm.”

            Bruce is staring at his hands, fiddling with them and smiling. Joe watches Bruce, and is struck by how different he’s acting. This wasn’t the confident billionaire he met all those months ago. Right now Bruce has no control. This is someone completely different, with a weird innocence about him. As if it’s been awhile since he’s brought this person out from wherever he’s been hiding him.

            And being the kind-hearted person Joe is, he can’t help what happens next.

            “I played basketball, too,” Joe says, “a lot longer than just a year.”

            “Really?”

            “Yeah,” Joe smiles, “was point guard in college for my first two years.”

            “Why’d you quit?”

            “Besides wanting a job outside sports,” Joe chuckles, “tore my Achilles’. Recovered alright, but I was out for too long and got left behind.”

            “That must’ve sucked.”

            “Yeah,” Joe nods, “but, hey, if I didn’t get injured, I wouldn’t be here.”

            Bruce smiles, “And neither would Barry.”

            Joe looks back at Bruce and can see a twinkle in Bruce’s eye. He remembers seeing that look in his own eye about…

            The postcard, although thin, feels like a lump under Joe. He clears his throat and looks at his bottle.

            “I need another drink,” Joe stands, “would you…?”

            “Uh, okay?” Bruce shrugs.

            “Be right back.”

            Joe makes his trip to the kitchen quick, but not quick enough. When he comes back, he’s frozen to the spot seeing the postcard in Bruce’s hands.

            “What are you doing?”

            Bruce startles. He looks up, eyes wide, like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

            “I saw this wedged in-between the cushions,” Bruce starts, “I-I figured it must have… _fallen_.”

            “Put it down.”

            Bruce does as he’s told. He shifts awkwardly in his seat while Joe just stares at the postcard.

            “I didn’t know you knew anyone in Keystone-“

            “I think you should leave.”

            Bruce’s expression falls. He looks away, but doesn’t object. He gets up and heads towards the door. Before he leaves, he looks back at Joe, still standing where he was before.

            “I’m… sorry,” Bruce says. He leaves soon after.

            Joe downs both bottles before he heads to bed.

            But not before he burns the postcard in the fireplace.

* * *

 

            Cisco and Caitlin take their time entering STAR Labs that day. They hold cups of coffees in their hands as they slowly walk to work.

            “I mean, I know that he has the power to do so,” Caitlin says, “but I just thought he was smarter than that.”

            “Doesn’t matter if he’s smart or not,” Cisco grumbles, sipping at his drink, “if the writers want to go that way, then they go that way.”

            “But doesn’t that just seem like a waste of the viewer’s time?”

            “How so?”

            “I mean, we spend so much time getting to know these characters over the seasons, and because the main guy couldn’t handle what was happening in his life he goes back in time and changes things-“

            “He did change it back, you have to remember that.”

            “Yeah,” Caitlin scoffs, “And made all of his friends’ lives worse! And nothing happened to him!”

            “He does have to live with it,” Cisco shrugs, “isn’t that something?”

            “Not enough,” Caitlin says, “especially since it doesn’t look like he’s learned from his mistakes.”

            “It’s a television show, Caitlin,” Cisco groans, “He’s not gonna learn anything until the end of the season.”

            “But wouldn’t you feel cheated if that happened to you?” Caitlin keeps going, “I mean, imagine Barry did something and ended up changing our lives like-I don’t know-what if Barry changes something in the past and-and your brother dies-“

            “Don’t even joke, Caitlin!”

            “I’m sorry, but that’s the only thing I could think of!”

            “First of all,” Cisco starts, “Barry would never be dumb enough to do something like that. And secondly, that wouldn’t happen because, if this was TV, that would be such a bad cop out. At least the changes in the real show make actual sense to the plot.”

            “Alright, I’ll give you that,” Caitlin agrees, “Hopefully it gets better.”

            “Hopefully…”

            Their conversation dies down when they hear sounds coming from the lab area. They both exchange looks.

            “Did Barry tell you he was gonna come in?” Cisco asks.

            “No,” Caitlin says, “he, Joe, and Eddie are supposed to be out working a case right now…”

            It’s another second before the two scientists bolt towards the sounds, footsteps pounding across the large hallway. Caitlin makes it there first, skidding to a halt outside the entrance. Cisco runs into her, knocking her back a few inches. They stare into the lab room.

            Bruce is set up in the middle, the Flash suit on a table in front of him. He looks up from where he is working and smiles.

            “Caitlin, Cisco,” he greets.

            “Bruce,” Caitlin says, eyebrows quirked, “What are you doing?”

            “Just working on Barry’s suit,” Bruce explains, holding up the object in question, “I remember Barry and you guys talking about my gadgets, so I thought I’d give him some. Y’know, for just in case.”

            “Does Barry know?” Cisco asks.

            “I thought it’d be a surprise,” Bruce smiles. He motions them over. “Come on, I can show you what I’ve been doing.”

            “How long have you been here?” Cisco asks as he follows Caitlin towards the suit.

            “Around ten.”

            “At night!”

            “I was keeping a look out for Bane and Weather Wizard,” Bruce shrugged, “figured I could multi-task.”

            “But how did you even get in?”

            Bruce smirks, and the answer is already in everyone’s mind. Caitlin and Cisco roll their eyes as they also say it.

            “I’m Batman.” “You’re Batman.”

            “Anyway,” Bruce says, “let me show you what I did.”

            Bruce holds up the suit. He places a hand on the chest symbol.

            “I’m working on introducing this system into Barry’s suit, so if he’s being held by an enemy he can press they lightning bolt symbol, and shock them off,” Bruce explains, pressing down on the lightning bolt himself. A few sparks shoot off, however, a small fire breaks out on the right elbow. Caitlin and Cisco react, quickly smothering it while Bruce grimaces.

            “It’ll be awhile.”

            “Besides setting Barry on fire,” Cisco drawls, “you got anything else?”

            “Well, uh,” Bruce looks away, blushing, “I did add a few weapons to his suit.” He moves down to the belt area, where around six small lightning bolts rest.

            “I called in my tech guy from Wayne Co., Lucius,” Bruce says, “I had him create something similar to my bat-a-rangs, however these are more like darts. Barry can throw them and pin enemies to the wall or… well, whatever he wants to do with them.”

            Cisco picks one of the lightning darts up from the belt. He and Caitlin examine it very closely, going over the tech work and the design.

            “It’s very nice,” Caitlin starts, “I can see Barry using these in the field.”

            Bruce smiles. He then moves towards the gloves.

            “I also decided to add this new system I’ve been testing myself,” Bruce continues, “it would connect him to the computer here, that way he can analyze samples he finds at crime scenes through sensors on his gloves. They can scan the samples and send them over here for you to look at or for him when he comes back.”

            “Barry has been complaining about that,” Cisco rolls his eyes, “says running with the samples has been damaging them, making them harder to read.”

            “So,” Caitlin puts the lightning dart down, “Anything else?”

            “Well, uh, I’ve been busy with the electric system,” Bruce frowns down at the suit, “I’ve been having a few problems-and I don’t know where I’m going wrong.” He looks up. “Maybe one of you could take a quick look?”

            Cisco and Caitlin exchange glances. Caitlin gets up, “I have a few experiments to run myself,” she says, “besides, this isn’t my field. Cisco?”

            “I… guess I could take a look.”

            Bruce smiles and moves over, letting Cisco take the helm. Caitlin walks towards her station, but turns to look back at Cisco and Bruce. They’re talking in hushed voices over the suit. Caitlin shoots them a small smile.

            She saw Bruce’s work. She also saw that he made some very _beginner_ mistakes with the wiring, even to her eyes. She knows what she’s doing. She also thinks it’s sweet.

            Caitlin heads to her desk, where a stack of papers awaits her.

* * *

 

            The elevator dings open, and Eddie walks out, files under arm. He’s got a stormy expression on his face, and it only grows when he sees someone through the crowd. Someone who’s stationed themselves at his desk. Someone who’s talking to Patty: laughing with her. Someone he really doesn’t want to even think about let alone look at.

            He stalks up to his desk, to Patty, and to Bruce.

            “Eddie-“

            “What do you think you’re doing here?”

            Bruce blinks, and looks away. Patty smile falls and she shoots Eddie a weird look. Eddie doesn’t back down.

            “I thought I’d come by and see Barry, but he wasn’t here,” Bruce explains, trying to smile, “I couldn’t find Joe either, so I thought you might know and, well, I ran into Patty.”

            “We were having a really great conversation,” Patty brightens, “Bruce here knows a lot about detective work.”

            “I wonder why,” Eddie glares at Bruce. Bruce shifts uncomfortably. Patty looks between the two.

            “Well,” Bruce starts, “if you don’t know where Barry is…”

            “I don’t.”

            “I’ll, just-uh… I’ll just go, then.”

            Bruce takes his leave, briskly. Eddie watches him leave, a satisfied smirk on his face. That is, until he feels a slap on the back of his head.

            “Ow!” he grumbles, rubbing at his head. He turns to see Patty shooting him a disappointed look, arms crossed. “What?”

            “Why were you so rude to him?” Patty asks, “He was just being friendly.”

            “I don’t buy it,” Eddie grumbles, “Guy can be as friendly as he wants.”

            “He’s Barry’s boyfriend,” Patty rolls her eyes, “I thought you guys were cool now?”

            “We are,” Eddie says, “Bruce and I… not so much.”

            “Why?” Patty asks, “He seems harmless.”

            “Yeah… harmless,” Eddie looks away, back at where Bruce left. He shakes his head and turns back to Patty. “If he were harmless he wouldn’t have hurt Barry the way he did.”

            “Wait, he…” she looks around, moving in closer and lowering her voice to a whisper, “he _hurt_ Barry? Like… bruises?”

            “Well, no,” Eddie balks, rubbing at his neck, “but he, uh, he made Barry act… weird. You saw him, like, three weeks ago? All weepy and shit, that was Bruce’s fault.”

            “Really?” Patty blinks, “But why does that matter now?”

            “Excuse me?”

            “It seems Barry’s forgiven him,” Patty says, smiling, “and, if anything, it looks like Bruce has been doing his best to make up for it. And not just to Barry.”

            “What are you talking about?”

            Patty holds out an envelope to Eddie. He stares at it before taking it. He opens it and looks inside, where two tickets rest.

            “What are these?”

            “Tickets,” Patty explains, “Really good ones for that show that came to Central? You know, the one you were bugging me about seeing but couldn’t because it was sold out? He pulled some strings to get this for us.”

            “He… he did?”

            “It’s great that you are holding on to this grudge for Barry, really, shows how much you care,” Patty smiles, rubbing Eddie’s shoulder, “but if Barry’s forgiven him, shouldn’t you?”

            “I-“

            “Relationships go through rough patches, and there will be tears,” Patty says, “But if Barry and Bruce learn from it, their relationship will become stronger. And from what I’ve been seeing recently, it’s gotten pretty damn strong.”

            “…”

            “I gotta get back to work,” Patty says, kissing Eddie on the cheek, “let me know how you feel when you get your voice back.”

            She leaves Eddie in thought. He looks at the tickets, then back at the elevator, his lip sucked under his teeth.

* * *

 

            The neon sign of the building next to them bleeds into the room, bypassing the curtain and casting a soft glow onto both Bruce and Barry on the bed. Barry rests on top of Bruce, kissing lazily. Barry’s arms are wrapped around Bruce’s neck, his hands playing with Bruce’s hair. Bruce has his arms on Barry’s hips. They are frozen there.

            Barry slows down what he’s doing. He opens his eyes to see Bruce staring at him. Barry sighs into Bruce’s mouth, and then pulls back.

            “What’s wrong?”

            Bruce blinks, then focuses on Barry.

            “Hmm?”

            “What’re you thinking about?”

            “Nothing.”

            The answer was too fast for it to be the truth. Barry raises a brow. Bruce blushes and looks away.

            “Look,” Bruce starts, “can we please just get back to kissing?”

            “Not when you aren’t giving it your all,” Barry fires back.

            “I’ll do better next time.”

            Bruce pleads with Barry, eyes searching his. Barry uses this time to search Bruce’s, and finds the hidden message within.

            “The plan hasn’t been going well, has it?”

            Bruce sighs and looks away.

            “What happened?”

            “I-I don’t know,” Bruce admits, “I thought things were going well… but I kind of screwed up with Joe. I-I thought things were looking up with Cisco and Caitlin but, yesterday…”

            “What happened yesterday?”

            “Just, Eddie,” Bruce says, “he shut me down before I could even begin. I-I don’t know but the anger and hate he was throwing off really hit me. How am I supposed to do this when I hurt them just as much as I hurt you?”

            Barry silences his worries with a quick kiss to the lips. He moves his hands until he has both on Bruce’s face. “You will,” he says, “Not the same way you did when you got me to forgive you, but you’ll find a way.”

            “They…” Bruce starts, “They really care about you.”

            Barry smiles, “Yeah.”

            “You’re a lucky person, Barry,” Bruce says, “to have that many people.”

            “I feel lucky just to be here with you, Bruce,” Barry tells him. Bruce blushes and looks away, smiling.

            Barry is about to close the gap between them when his cell phone goes off to his right. He sighs, and reaches for it.

            “Barry,” he sighs, “What’cha got?”

            “Readings on strange weather patterns,” Caitlin tells him, “I think we know where they are. Are you with…?”

            “Yeah, I’ll let him know,” Barry smiles down at Bruce, “talk later.” He hangs up, and rises.

            “Was that-“

            “Yeah.”

            “Time to fight?”

            “Meet you there,” Barry smiles, “I need to change. Try not to take too long.”

            Barry rushes away in a blur, leaving Bruce smiling at the space where he once was.

            Bruce swings down from the rooftops, landing next to Barry who has been investigating the surrounding area. He walks up to him and startles him out of thought.

            “Any sign of them?” Bruce asks.

            “No,” Barry says, “But judging with how choppy the water has gotten, they aren’t far.”

            The lightning bolt that cuts between them says the two are actually close. The heroes turn to see Weather Wizard floating behind them.

            “Mardon,” Flash grits out, “I thought you left?”

            “I did,” Mardon says, “but something keeps bringing me back. I think it’s money.”

            “Where’s your friend?” Barry asks.

            “Not here for you.”

            With that , Mardon flies forward and onto the water. Barry gives Bruce a quick nod before chasing him, leaving Bruce on the docks.

            Bruce keeps his eyes and ears peeled for Bane. He can feel the ground shake before he hears him pounding in from the right, charging straight for him. Bruce can see the Venom already flowing inside the tube and glares. He waits until Bane is close enough before dodging: leaping over him with a swift kick to the back of his neck.

            “Bane,” Bruce says, landing on a nearby stack of crates, “Subtle as ever, I see.”

            “Still hurting from the last time we fought, Batman?” Bane fires back, “A real man wouldn’t run from a fight.”

            “Un hombre de verdad no necesitaría drogas para ayudarlo a luchar.”

            Bane growls at him, then charges again, Bruce easily dodging by firing a grappling hook and swinging away.

            Back on the water, Barry dodges the Weather Wizard’s lightning bolts with ease. Each strike misses him by seconds, and he’s running circles around the weather-based villain.

            “You really need to work on your aim, Mardon!” Barry calls out, “Practice on moving targets.”

            “Why would I when I can make them stop moving?”

            The wind shifts, gusting the opposite direction Barry was moving. The water shifts, and sends the Barry flying back a bit. He skips on the water’s surface like a rock.

            Barry recovers and gets back up, running back towards Mardon. Mardon has surrounded himself in a wind tunnel, high above Barry.

            “What do we have, guys?” Barry asks.

            “It’s a Level 3 Tornado,” Cisco says from over the comm link, “But it’s growing. Try and take out his wand.”

            “His wand, right,” Barry rolls his eyes, “where’d he ever get such a weapon.”

            “Save your sarcasm for when you get back, alright?”

            Barry shakes his head and rushes forward.

            Bruce dodges again, sending Bane running straight into another wall. Bane shakes off the debris and releases a loud scream into the night.

            “Stay still, criatura de la noche!”

            “Nunca.”

            Bruce tosses a few bat-a-rangs in Bane’s direction, only for Bane to catch and crush them with ease. Bane grins, teeth yellowed and crooked, before he fiddles with a dial on his hand. Bruce’s eyes widen.

            The green Venom in the tubes begins to move, and instantly Bane’s muscles increase in size.

            “Time to break, murciélago.”

            Bane charges forward, fist first. Bruce ducks, and swings up on the large arm, landing a swift kick to Bane’s face. Bane doesn’t flinch; instead, he grabs Bruce’s foot and tosses him to the side into a few empty canisters. Bruce groans, pushing them off him.

            Bruce stands on shaky legs, getting into a fighting position. He motions for Bane to come at him.

            Bane does.

            The lightning is getting closer to Barry. He’s dodging, but soon enough it’ll hit him. The amount of lightning has increased the longer Mardon stays airborne. The worse the storm gets, the more powerful he seems to be.

            Mardon, from his perch, smiles down at Barry and laughs.

            “What’s so funny?” Flash yells up at Mardon.

            “You,” he answers, “How you still think you can stop it.”

            “It?” Barry blinks, “What’s it? What’s going on?”

            “I’d tell you, really I would,” Mardon says, “But then again, I’m also a liar.” He lifts the wand in the air and summons another lightning bolt heading straight for Barry,

            Bruce gasps for breath, sweat pooling under his cowl. Bane stands tall, fresh and ready to fight.

            “Still want more Batman?”

            “ _Siempre_.”

            Bruce is about to move forward when a flash of red flies past him and into a pile of crates, shattering the wood into splinters. Barry groans from where he is, splayed on the ground.

            Mardon flies to the edge of the dock, hovering, playing with his wand.

            “Come on, Bane,” Mardon says, “let’s finish what we started all those weeks ago.”

            “Sí,” Bane says, “We’ve taken long enough.”

            Barry is trying to stand back up, but his body isn’t listening to him at all. He can hear Cisco and Caitlin, even Joe in his ear, telling him to move: it doesn’t help. He’s staring Mardon down as the Weather Wizard holds up his wand. The weapon shines, and the sky booms. Barry can feel the surge in electricity, and knows the next hit will be powerful. He hears the crackle, can taste the ozone. He closes his eyes.

            Nothing happens.

            He opens his eyes, and feels his heart drop.

            Between him and Mardon, Bruce lies face-down, a hole in the back of his cape and a scorch mark in his armor.

            Barry’s body seems to listen to him now and he lurches forward towards Bruce. He turns him on his side, putting his head on his lap. He checks his pulse, and breathes when he feels it: barely.

            “Flash,” Bruce breathes, whispers.

            “You idiot,” Barry admonishes, “Why’d you do it?”

            “I don’t like it when you’re hurt,” Bruce says, “Rather me than you.” Bruce quiets after that, slipping into unconsciousness.

            “No, no! Stay with me! Come on!” Barry says, slapping at Bruce’s face. He stops when he hears two grating cackles.

            “One down,” Mardon says, “let’s finish them off.” He holds the wand up to the sky and goes to summon another lightning bolt like before.

            Barry glares at him, his own lightning crackling in his eyes.

            “No.”

            He stands, reaching for his belt. He tosses his lightning dart right at Mardon’s hand, piercing the skin. Mardon curses, dropping the wand. Barry rushes forward, collecting the wand and knocking Mardon over the head with it.

            “Just you and me, Flash,” Bane grins, “Come on and face me!”

            “You asked for it!”

            Barry sends out a flurry of punches and kicks, hitting Bane everywhere. Yet he has no effect. Bane giggles after Barry’s last punch and grabs his wrist. He lifts Barry up, using his other hand to trap his legs. He holds Barry up, high above him.

            “I wonder,” Bane muses, “how fast you can run with a broken spine?”

            Barry’s eyes widen. Bane grins, then starts to swing Barry down when-

            _Snnkt!_

            Barry opens his eyes and looks down. Below him, a green liquid starts to pool around the two of them. The puddle keeps growing and growing, and soon enough Barry realizes what the liquid is.

            He falls into it when Bane can’t hold him any longer. Bane tries to reattach his tube from where it’s been cut, trying and failing. He turns his back to Barry, giving him the opening he needs. Barry rabbit punches the back of Bane’s skull, sending the villain crumpling down to the ground.

            Barry looks around and spots a Venom-covered bat-a-rang nearby.

            He turns to see Bruce, heaving, barely holding himself inches from the ground.

            “¿Quién es el hombre ahora?”

            He faints not soon after that.

            “Bruce!”

            Barry runs back over to him, finger lighting up the comm link.

            “Barry, what’s wrong?”

            “Bruce, he was hit pretty bad,” Barry explains, picking Bruce up in his arms, “send someone over to pick up these two, I need the infirmary ready for him when I get there.”

            “Understood.”

            Barry looks down at Bruce. ‘ _Please,_ ’ Barry thinks, ‘ _Be alright._ ’ With a small kiss, Barry speeds out of there, and towards STAR Labs. 

* * *

 

_Beep._

_Beep._

_Beep._

 

            Bruce opens his eyes, already knowing where he is. He licks at his dry lips, mouth tasting like mold. He tries to get up, only for a red gloved hand to push him back down.

            Barry, cowl down, shoots him a look.

            “You got hit by a lightning bolt,” he says, “Don’t expect to even _try_ getting up.”

            “I’ve been hit by worse.”

            “That doesn’t make me feel any better.”

            Bruce looks away from Barry’s gaze. Barry rolls his eyes, and grabs at Bruce’s hand.

            “I’m glad you’re awake,” Barry smiles, “but next time, try pulling me out of the way before you take a hit for me.”

            “I’ll keep that in mind,” Bruce smiles back, squeezing Barry’s hand.

            “Ah, good, you’re awake!”

            Bruce and Barry startle as Team Flash enter the infirmary. Caitlin and Cisco enter first, followed by Joe and a sheepish Eddie.

            “Hey guys,” Barry says tiredly, “what’s the verdict?”

            “He won’t be able to do much in the next two weeks,” Caitlin says, “but other than that he should be fine. Your suit withstood most of the attack, Bruce, whoever designed it deserves a good thank you.”

            “I’ll be sure to tell them,” Bruce says.

            “And thank them for those lightning darts, too,” Cisco adds in, “those really saved the day.”

            “They did?” Bruce asks, turning to Barry.

            “I used one to disarm Mardon,” Barry says, then turns to Cisco, “and I’m calling them lightning _bolts_ , not darts.”

            “Whatever,” Cisco waves off, “Just order more. Or send the schematics over.”

            “I’ll tell Lucius to get right on it.”

            “Maybe recover first before you do any of that,” Joe says, “if you strain yourself too much, you’ll never be back on the field with Barry.”

            Bruce stares at him.

            “Do you want me with Barry?”

            “What?”

            “I mean,” Bruce starts, blushing, “do you want me with Barry… on the field?”

            Joe rolls his eyes. “If I say yes, will you stop pulling crazy stunts like that? I’ve seen Barry cry too much over you than I can handle.”

            “Hey I didn’t cry!”

            “You teared up a bit,” Eddie points out.

            “Shut up.”

            Bruce looks around the room now. “And you’re,” he continues, “you’re all okay with this?”

            The group look at each other and collectively sigh. Joe steps forward.

            “Son,” Joe says, putting his hand on Bruce’s shoulder, “it’s still a little weird and all, and while we can understand why you kept your secret, you hurt Barry. We need a bit more time but, we can’t deny how much happier you make each other. Barry’s forgiven you… so we should, too.”

            “Thank you,” Bruce says, “All of you, really. I never want to hurt Barry again.”

            “Good,” Joe smirks, “Because if you do I’m coming after you.”     

            “ _Joe_.”

            “I’d deserve it.”

            “ _Bruce!”_

“Maybe stick to not dying and go from there!” Cisco calls out. Barry groans and hides his head in his hands while everyone laughs around him.

            Bruce looks around the group and smiles, feeling a warm weight settles in his stomach: a feeling, like he belongs.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did y'all enjoy? I will say this chapter turned out in ways I never thought they'd go. I really hope you liked it: I know I did! It was very challenging but I was able to put in things I never thought of adding until writing. Plus it flowed so much better than my first attempt.
> 
> For those of you wondering about what was said between Bruce and Bane, here's what I typed into Google Translate:
> 
> "A real man wouldn't need drugs to help him fight."
> 
> "Creature of the night"
> 
> "Never"
> 
> "Bat"
> 
> "Always"
> 
> "Who's the man now?"
> 
> Until next time!


	19. The Build-Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce and Barry talk about their future, without knowing that a mysterious third party also has an interest in where they're going. Plus, Patty makes a decision about her future, and Joe receives a blast from the past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey folks! A month, I know, I know, I'm sorry. I could say it's been pretty busy for me, but seeing as I was able to manage three one-shots of Supernatural, my only excuse is writer's block. I wanted to get the characters right, plus writing fluff in a multi-chaptered story is very hard for me. Which, I think is deserved, considering next chapter we'll be getting to Arc 3: The final Arc of 'A Butterfly Effect'! But I get ahead of myself, enjoy!

            Heavy footfalls echo across the damp alleyway: pounding on the dirty concrete and splashing in the freshly formed puddles. A woman in a leather black leotard looks behind her, squinting in the rain. She knocks into some trashcans, and a cat screeches nearby. She doesn’t stop; continuing her escape, grip tight on the small burlap sack.

            She rounds a corner and crashes into someone, black gloved hands grabbing at her wrists.

            “Magpie,” Bruce smirks, “rather dull of you to try to run, isn’t it?”

            “Batman!”

            She jerks her knee up, Batman dodging it on reflex. His grip slacks, and she turns out of his hold. She fires off another kick, Bruce ducking out of the way. He stands, fist raised, only to stop when face to face with the barrel of a gun.

            “I wouldn’t if I were you,” Magpie tuts, wagging her finger, “One wrong step and I fire.”

            Bruce lowers his hand and stands to his full height, letting the cape unfurl over his shoulder. He looks at the gun, up at Magpie, then back at her hand.

            “Fire what?”

            Magpie blinks. She scowls, “My gun of-hey!”

            Her hand is empty, the gun nowhere in sight. A sharp whistle rings out behind her, and she turns, startling at the red figure lounging on the wall. Magpie’s gun dangles between his fingers. She stares at him, slack-jawed.

            Barry smiles at her.

            Magpie looks between the two heroes, mind in overdrive thinking of what to do. But before she could even make the first step, Barry is at her side, blocking her path.

            “I wouldn’t try to run,” he tells her, “it’s kind of my thing.”

            She scowls, and throws an uppercut. Barry steps back, evading it. Magpie readies another punch, only to feel a tight coil wrap around her body. Her arms are forced to her side, and she can barely move. She falls to the ground, releasing her ill-gotten gains.

            “Quick work,” Barry sidles up to Bruce, “if I do say so myself.”

            Bruce thanks him, bending down to pick up the bag. Magpie struggles in her bonds, cursing against the asphalt.

            “Too scared to face me fair and square, Batman,” she growls, “Know if this was just you-n-me, I’d whoop your sorry ass back to Gotham.”

            “We both know that isn’t true,” Bruce tells her, emptying the bag into his hand. A few small diamonds drop into his hand. He looks them over, and then turns back to Magpie.

            “Is this all?” he leans down, glaring at her.

            “Like I’d tell you,” she laughs, pulling herself up just enough to spit at him. It lands on his cheek. He glares at her harder before straightening up and walking to Barry. Barry gives him a half smile and cups Bruce’s chin, swiping his thumb across Bruce’s cheek.

            “You got a little-“

            “Thanks.”

            It’s soft, like Bruce’s smile at him. He looks back at Magpie.

            “Did you call-“

            “On their way,” Barry tells him, removing his hand, “we should go.”

            “Yeah.”

            They stand there for a few more seconds, watching each other, Magpie’s struggle in the background. It’s only when they can hear the sirens in the distance do either of them move. Bruce grabs for his grappling hook, firing up onto a building ledge and propelling upwards. Barry watches him go, chasing after him once the cape’s edges disappear over the roof.

            Bruce and Barry fly across the rooftops, Barry reaching the resting point much earlier than Bruce. When Bruce finally stops, Barry wraps his arms around his neck and pulls him tight.

            “You’re so sexy in spandex,” Barry mouths against his skin, “I didn’t realize this would be so hard.”

            Bruce squeezes Barry below the belt, and Barry lets out a tiny yelp of pleasure.

            “You’re right,” Bruce smirks, “ _this_ is hard.”

            Barry’s about to say something when his comm-link crackles to life, followed by a bout of heavy coughing. He sighs and steps back from Bruce.

            “Yes?” he says into the mic, turning away.

            “Hmm?” Cisco, on the other end, hums, “Oh, sorry, I didn’t realize this was still on? Wow, what are the odds.”

            “Cisco,” Barry rolls his eyes, “what do you have?”

            “Joe picked up that chick with the crazy ‘do,” Cisco says, laughing at the image, “cursing you and Bruce to hell and back.”

            “Anything else?”

            “Just the usual: ‘This isn’t over… only the beginning… you’ll be sorry’,” Cisco lists off, “Joe also wants to know where the stolen goods are?”

            “Tell him he can have them when I’m finished,” Bruce says, pocketing the diamonds in his utility belt.

            “Give Bruce a day,” Barry says, “now if that’s all…?”

            “Just dry clean the suit before bringing it back,” Cisco cackles, “it’s stiff enough already. Cisco out!”

            Barry burns bright red, turning the communicator off. He tips his head back, landing on Bruce’s shoulder, having crept up behind him. He pouts up at Bruce.

            “You okay?”

            “I think I liked it better when _they_ were uncomfortable with all this,” Barry tells him, “saved me from being embarrassed.”

            Bruce rolls his eyes from behind his cowl’s lenses.

            “Anyway,” Barry turns, facing Bruce, “why take the diamonds? They don’t look like much.”

            “Exactly,” Bruce says, “shiny objects are Magpie’s MO, but this seemed… _specific_.”

            “Like the whole robbery was… _coordinated_?”

            “Exactly,” Bruce nods, face grim, “like every other attack by a Gotham criminal.”

            “This whole thing with your bad guys still isn’t resolved?” Barry asks.

            Bruce shrugs, half-smiling, “I’m still here, aren’t I?”

            The attempted joke sits heavy in Barry’s stomach. He frowns, looking away from Bruce.

            Barry had almost forgotten the real reason Bruce had been coming to Central City. Swept up in everything with Bruce, he can’t believe he tossed aside the thing that brought them together. The thing that will, no doubt, be over soon enough. And once it’s over, nothing will be keeping him from Gotham.

            ‘ _And keeping him here._ ’

            “Hey,” Bruce says softly, cupping Barry’s face with his hand, turning it so Barry was looking right at him, “you okay?”

            “Yeah,” Barry tries a smile, “just… thinking.”

            “About?”

            “Well,” Barry’s about to tell Bruce his thoughts, really, but the attentive way Bruce is listening to him, ready to help, has him more scared than anything.

            “These Gotham bad guys,” Barry says, instead, “now that we’re on the same side, I’m sure we can help you figure out who’s behind all this.”

            “You’ve already helped me enough-“

            “No, Bruce,” Barry continues, “I’ve only been helping you with catching, but let me help you with the other half-let _us_. This can all be over with soon enough, and we won’t have this hanging over our heads anymore.”

            Bruce considers this, turning it over in his head. He looks at Bruce, a tiny smile on his face. “You sure?”

            “Of course,” Barry nods, “your problems are my problems. And, hey, the sooner we get this wrapped up, the sooner you can go back to Gotham, right?”

            Bruce nods, only half-realizing this truth himself. He looks off to the side.

            “Yeah,” he frowns, “right-“

            _BOOM!_

            The two look up, heavy clouds having filtered into the sky while they were distracted. A few raindrops start to fall, foreshadowing the larger storm the two could see building on the horizon.

            “We should probably head back,” Barry says, “you want me to give you a lift back to your hotel?”

            “No,” Bruce smiles, “I enjoy the calm just before a storm. Relaxes me.”

            “Okay, weirdo,” Barry laughs, “text me when you make it back.”

            “I will,” Bruce says, kissing Barry chastely on the lips, “Love you.”

            Barry pulls Bruce in for another deeper, longer kiss. Bruce closes his eyes, and grips at Barry’s arms. He can feel one of Barry’s hands covering his heart, pressing forward. He pulls away after a beat, and rests his forehead against Barry’s.

            “Love you, too.”

            In the next instant, Barry’s gone; nothing but a few sparks left in the air denoting his presence. Bruce pulls his hand up to his lips, brushing fingers against still tingling skin. He smiles to himself, sadly, before another crack of thunder has him looking back at the sky.

            Bruce turns, running off the roof and jumping. He fires his grappling hook and swings back into the night.

            Across the street, in a dingy apartment, a figure in the shadows moves. The lens of something shiny, reflecting the neon glow of a sign, lowers away from the window.

* * *

             The shower persists well into the morning and late into the afternoon. It’s now night, and Bruce shakes off dusting of water that settled on his jacket between his car and his hotel.

            He enters his room, shrugging off his coat, when Alfred turns to him, phone to his ear.

            “He actually just entered,” Alfred smiles, “I’ll hand the phone over to him right now. Yes, yes, I wrote down what you wanted, you’ll have it in time, don’t worry. Goodbye.”

            Alfred hands the phone off to Bruce, mouthing the name to him. Bruce smiles and speaks into the receiver.

            “Dick,” Bruce says, loosening his tie, “have you been behaving for Jim?”

            “Yeesh, Bruce, nice to hear from you, too,” Dick chuckles, and Bruce can hear the eye roll from the other side of the phone.

            “Dick,” Bruce laughs himself, “you know I love hearing from you… but I also know how _rambunctious_ you can get. And Gordon already has enough on his plate as it is.”

            “Actually, things have been very quiet in Gotham,” Dick tells him, suddenly serious. Bruce blinks at the sudden change of tone.

            “Come again?”

            “Gotham City?” Dick says, “It’s seen a sudden _decrease_ in criminal activities: murder, robbery, hell-even _littering_ has gone down.”

            “You sure?”

            “Bruce, I’m pretty sure,” Dick snorts, “I mean, Gordon might be tight on rules, but when it comes to his suspicions he’s very loose.”

            “Speaking of rules,” Bruce smirks, “I hope this wave of peace hasn’t encouraged you to try going out without me?”

            “Pfft what? Bruce, c’mon, y’know me!”

            “Exactly.”

            Bruce can hear Dick sigh from across the line and bites back a laugh. He unbuttons a few buttons and sits down on a nearby chair, toeing off his shoes.

            “I’ve been busy,” Dick finally says, “what with the science fair coming up, Barbara and I’ve been working non-stop on our project.”

            “What are you working on?”

            “Barbara’s been working on this coding, y’see,” Dick starts, launching off on a tangent about how they’ve been spending nights where Barbara Gordon, Jim’s daughter, has been hunched over her laptop, fingers blazing across the keyboard ninety miles per minute, while Dick made sure to keep her well-rested and hydrated.

            “I hope she hasn’t been doing _all_ the work,” Bruce sighs, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

            “Well, no,” Dick coughs, “I mean-she’s much better at it than I am, but she’s been teaching me some stuff and, well, I’ve been making sure she doesn’t work herself into the ground.”

            “That’s very sweet of you, Dick,” Bruce says, “I’m sure Jim appreciates it.”

            “I don’t mind it,” Dick starts, “I mean, Barb’s fun to be around. And when she gets all focused on the computer, her glasses slipping off her nose a bit, I can’t _not_ say that’s cute!”

            “…Oh really?”

            “Um,” Dick chokes, voice warbling across the line, “I mean, y’know, like how you look at a-at a baby panda sneezing and it’s like _reflex_? Yeah, that’s what I mean.”

            “If that’s what you say,” Bruce laughs.

            “Anyway, enough about me,” Dick coughs, “what have-what’s been going on in Central?”

            “Nothing too big,” Bruce tells him, “still seems to be a problem with Arkham inmates making their way here. Bane was here a while ago, and we just caught Magpie yesterday… there were some others like the Ventriloquist, and Punch and Jewlee-those two were a handful. I didn’t know how we were going to catch them, they kept bouncing all over the place.”

            “…We?”

            Now Bruce is the one biting back a choke. He coughs, and pulls at his already loose tie.

            “Yes,” he says, “…we.”

            “Huh,” Dick says, “who’s this we? You aren’t… seeing another sidekick on the side are you?” Bruce can hear the fear in Dick’s voice, even behind the light-hearted humor.

            “No, Dick,” Bruce starts, “you know I only have one sidekick-and he’s my son.”

            “Thank God.”

            “I’ve been working with… a local.”

            “A local?” Dick asks, “Bruce, you hate working with people.”

            Bruce blanches, pouting, “I don’t.”

            “Bruce.”

            “Okay,” Bruce relents, rubbing at the back of his neck, “But I figured working with Flash was better than not.”

            “The Flash!” Dick shouts, “You’ve been working with him?”

            “Yes,” Bruce answers, the blush burning brighter on his face, “we’ve gotten… close, during my time here in Central.”

            “So he’s gonna help you figure out what’s going on?” Dick guesses, “That’s good. From what I’ve read about him, he’s very fast.”

            “What’s that got to do with anything?”

            “You’ve been flying back and forth between Central City for months, Bruce,” Dick says, “Gotham misses you… as do certain _people_.”

            Bruce’s chest tightens. His grip on the phone sags a bit as he sighs into the phone.

            “Dick,” Bruce starts, “I’m really sorry I’ve had to divide my time between here and you. Really, there’s nothing more I’d rather do then go home with you and-“

            ‘ _And Barry…’_

            “And?”

            “And… stay there,” Bruce finishes lamely, “Get you back on nightly patrols.”

            “Y’know, I _could_ …”

            “No,” Bruce huffs, “for the twentieth time, you aren’t coming to Central. Alfred’s flying back the day after tomorrow and I’ll be back the following week.”

            “For good?”

            “…Hopefully.”

            “Great!”

            A sound on the other side of the line distracts Dick, and Bruce can hear muffled talking on the other end of the line.

            “I gotta go, Bruce,” Dick says, “Barbara needs my help with something. Love you!”  
            Bruce smiles, “Love you, too.” The line goes dead, and Bruce sighs, scrubbing a hand down his face. Alfred is watching him from the corner of the room. Bruce peeks an eye out between his fingers, glaring at the look Alfred is shooting him.

            “You know,” Bruce grumbles, “if you have something to say, say it.”

            “Oh, nothing sir,” Alfred starts, plucking a book up from the nearby table, “Just wondering why you haven’t decided to tell young Master Richard just how _close_ you and Barry’s relationship has gotten?”

            Bruce looks away, teeth biting his cheek.

            “Sir?”  
            “I want to,” Bruce starts out, “I really do. Barry and Dick… they’d get along great, I just know it.”

            “Then what’s stopping you?”

            “The future,” Bruce sighs, “What happens… after.”

            “After, sir?”

            “After we finish the case,” Bruce explains, “after I go back home to Gotham; where Barry and I are separated by thousands of miles and different time zones. Barry is already busy with his own life, and it was easy when we’re in the same city… but what’s going to happen if it becomes too difficult? If our relationship becomes too much and just… fades away?”

            “That’s all?”

            Bruce startles, blinking up at Alfred. Alfred shoots him an easy smile. Bruce grumbles, and crosses hi arms.

            “You know,” Bruce snarks, “I expected something nicer after I poured out all my fears and worries.”

            “Oh, sorry, sir,” Alfred says, “it’s just… I’m happy you’re, for once, going through something anyone _else_ in a relationship would be going through.”

            “What’s that supposed to mean?”

            “That after killer clowns and alien best friends,” Alfred laughs, “something in your life could be considered… _normal_.”

            “A relationship with a man who can run faster than a sonic jet isn’t something I’d describe as _normal,_ Alfred.”

            “Even so,” Alfred waves off, “this is so much easier to deal with than it was with Silver-”

            Bruce looks away, a cold chill shooting up his spine. Alfred frowns, a slight red dusting his cheeks.

            “I’m-I’m sorry, Bruce,” Alfred sighs, “I-I wasn’t thinking-“

            “No, no,” Bruce interrupts, “it’s-it’s okay. You don’t have to… tiptoe around the subject. It was… such a long time ago-”

            “Not to me, it wasn’t,” Alfred starts, “Bruce, when she left you… I was so scared for you. After everything you’ve been through, I wasn’t expecting her to be what almost took you away from me. Because of Silver… you withdrew. Started spending more and more time away as the Batman, barely eating… barely sleeping. I mean I had to fight you just to take a break for _one night_. And if you hadn’t had gone to the circus…”

            Bruce nods, understanding what Alfred is trying to say.

            “So let me just say,” Alfred continues, “that the fact you’re worried about making things _work_ between you and Barry, long-distance… it’s a welcome relief for this tired old man.”

            “Alfred…”

            “Now, my final word on the matter,” Alfred stands, walking towards his room, “is to talk with Barry. I’m sure that he’s worrying just as much about this as you are.”

            Bruce smiles at Alfred, small and honest. “Thank you Alfred,” he says, “again.”

            “Remember, I’m always here for you, my boy,” Alfred nods, brushing his hand against Bruce’s shoulder, squeezing it, before resuming his walk. “Now, knock when you decide you’re hungry, and we can call room service.”

            “Okay, Alfred,” Bruce laughs, watching the door close.       

            Bruce sits on the chair, leaning his head back and letting his mind drift. He brings up the pieces of the mystery, trying to fit them together, only for him to get distracted by his own doubts and worries. Bruce sighs, and scrubs a hand down his face.

            ‘ _I’ll never be able to focus if I’m this distracted_ …’

            So Bruce takes out his phone and sends out a text. 

* * *

 

            ‘ _Dinner tomorrow? Need to talk._ ’

            Barry stares at the text, drumming his fingers against his work counter. He bites his lip, and runs his other hand through his hair. He’s racking his brain, trying to figure out what had happened between the other night and yesterday.

            ‘ _Need to talk is never a good sign_.’

            He’s thrown out of his thoughts by a knock on his door.

            “Come in,” he says, shutting his phone off.

            Patty slinks in, closing the door behind her slowly. She looks around the room, as if searching for someone. When she doesn’t find them, she lets out a long sigh.

            “Patty?” Barry asks, “What do I owe the pleasure?”

            “Oh, nothing really,” Patty says, smiling awkwardly. She walks further into the room, wringing her hands. “I just figured,” she continues, “we haven’t really had a chance to talk since Eddie and I…”

            “Started dating?” Barry smiles.

            “Yeah,” Patty blushes.

            “Well, why don’t you take a seat?” Barry shrugs, “I promise I won’t bite.”

            Patty lets out a small chuckle, and finds her seat on a nearby stool. She looks down, and away from Barry. Barry raises a brow.

            “So.”

            “So…”

            “So, Barry,” Patty starts, “we’re… friends, right?”

            “Of course,” Barry tells her, “and not just because you’re Eddie’s girlfriend.”

            “Good, great,” she nods, “because, I could really use a friend right now.”

            “Whatever it is,” Barry says, “unless you killed someone and you need me to give you an alibi because, well, ‘ _I can’t do that_ ’!” Barry chuckles, but seeing Patty looking to the distance, thoughts swirling in her eyes, he stops laughing and leans in. “I mean,” he continues, whispering, “I was just joking, but if you need someone to help you hide a body-well, I can’t do that, but I’m sure I can help you with some defense?”

            “What?” Patty says, shaking her head, “No, no-God, no Barry I didn’t kill anyone.”

            “Oh thank God,” Barry breathes, “Seriously, you don’t trail off with an over-thinker like me, otherwise I’ll just _ramble_ …”

            “I’m going back to school!”

            Barry clams up, blinking in surprise. Patty is staring at Barry, wide-eyed, a hand clamped shut over her mouth.

            “That’s… great?”

            “No,” Patty sighs, removing her hand, “It’s… it’s not.”

            “Why not?” Barry asks, “I mean, it’s not like you can make the accidental decision to go to school. Unless… is it not the school of your dreams?”

            “No, no, it’s not that,” Patty smiles to herself, “it’s actually a pretty great school, with a great CSI program-“

            “Wait, CSI?” Barry asks, “Patty are you going to school to become a CSI?”

            Patty blushes, and looks away. But she can’t help smiling and nodding the affirmative. In an instant, she’s crushed against Barry’s chest.

            “Patty that’s great!” he cheers, “Being a CSI is going to be great! Oh, and when you’re done you can come back and we can work together! This is going to be great!”

            “Well,” Patty mumbles against Barry’s chest, “I don’t know if I’ll come back here…”

            Barry releases Patty and holds her at arms length.

            “What are you talking about?”

            “It’s just,” Patty sighs, going slack in Barry’s hold, “I don’t know what’s going to happen in the next few years. I, mean, I would love to work here, when I come back. Central City has become such a home to me… but it might be awkward.”

            “Awkward, how?” Barry asks, “I mean, Eddie was happy for you, right?”

            “That’s the thing, I haven’t told Eddie yet.”

            Barry’s eyes widen. He lets go of Patty and falls back into his seat.

            “You haven’t told him yet?” Barry asks, “Why?”

            “Well,” Patty starts, rubbing at her arm, “at first, it was because I didn’t know if he’d be okay with it. When we started dating, we would spend a lot of our time studying for the detective’s test. I thought that was what I wanted to do with my life. But then…”

            “One of the things I used to do with my dad was read old case files: _his_ old case files. He was a detective before… before he was shot on duty. The guy-the… murderer… he got away. And-and I was so angry and so… lost. I wanted to bring that man-and other like him, to justice. So I figured the best way to do that was to become a detective like him. And I was well on my way to becoming one until I hit a snag.”

            “The test?” Barry guesses. Patty nods.

            “Reading case files… not only was it good practice for becoming a detective, seeing how they connect the dots and all that, but it still helps me relax. One night I was… I wasn’t feeling my best. I had taken a few practice tests and my scores weren’t… _passable_. And, after a few files… I got to this one report and I-I froze. It was my dad’s-not one of his from the past but the one filed about _him_. I was… shaking. Scared. I don’t know how long I just stared at it before I opened it and-and when I did… I cried.”

            “Because it brought back bad memories?”

            “No,” Patty shakes, eyes watering, “because it was _solved_.”

            “What?”

            “My dad’s killer,” she continues, “they caught him. A couple years back, for a drive-by. They were able to match bullets from that shooting to his and… and they found DNA… I-I couldn’t believe it. I called my mom right away and we… we just cried the night away, smiling.”

            “That’s… that’s great, Patty,” Barry smiles, “but how did this lead to…?”

            “Looking over the case, I saw how, thanks to the analysis by the CSI, they were able to link the man to my dad’s murder. Then I re-opened all the cases I took out and kept reading about how valuable all the work done by people just like you were for the completion of the cases and-and I don’t know… there was just this-this light bulb that went over my head, blinking, telling me that this was what I was supposed to do. And when I did I looked online and… there are a few courses being offered at the nearby university next fall and… I enrolled.”

            “I’m sorry Patty,” Barry says, eyebrows scrunched in confusion, “I’m having trouble seeing what the problem is.”

            “It’s just,” Patty sighs, deflating, “this thing with Eddie, it’s so new… I don’t know what this new move will do to us. Long distance is such a big strain on a relationship-and you’re the only one I know who’s in one.”

            Barry freezes, a knot forming in his stomach. “Is that,” Barry stutters, “Is that why you came to me?”

            “Yes,” Patty nods, “I really like Eddie and-and this is probably the first relationship I see _going_ somewhere and… I don’t want to lose that. But, I also don’t want to give up on something I’ve been working towards for most of my life.”

            “Patty,” Barry smiles, patting her hand, “who says you have to lose both?”

            “Huh.”

            “I mean,” Barry shrugs, “You haven’t even told Eddie yet. There’s no saying what he’s gonna do-although, I’m sure he won’t dump you. I haven’t seen Eddie this crazy about someone since… well, he’s crazy about you.”

            “But what if it’s out of our hands?” Patty asks, “I mean, even when we’re together, we have enough trouble trying to spend time together. Like, just yesterday, I thought we were going to have a nice break together, but fifteen minutes in he has to run out without any explanation. Only a promise he’d make it up to me!”

            Barry winces, knowing good and well just why Eddie had to run out.

            “I’m sure Eddie has his reasons…” Barry says, “but you’ll never know if you don’t talk to him.”

            “That’s what you did?”

            “Well, I-uh,” Barry stumbles, blushing, looking away, “Bruce has been splitting his time between Gotham and Central, for now. It hasn’t really gotten to the… long-distance point.”

            “But when he’s not with you?”

            “Oh, I wish he was,” Barry smiles, looking down, “I text him… I call. And yeah, it gets the job done but… it isn’t easy. Still, I know he’s coming back.”

            “Is he going to keep doing that?”

            “Well, uh…” Barry blanches, “he’s really been here on… business. But, it should be wrapping up soon and-well, he will be going back but-“  He keeps stumbling over his words, and Patty can tell she hit a sore spot.

            “It’s okay,” Patty smiles, rubbing Barry’s arm, “maybe we should both take your advice, huh?”

            Barry’s mouth falls open. He struggles for a response, and just when he thinks he has it, Joe opens the door.

            “Barry, I-Patty?” Joe blinks at them, “What are you doing here?”

            “Just talking with Barry,” Patty smiles, “Is Eddie here?”

            “Yeah, we just came back from a quick suspect check,” Joe tells her, “Should be in the break room.”

            “Thanks,” she stands, and then turns to Barry. “And thank you Barry.” She hugs him, and then walks past Joe and out of the room.

            Joe turns to Barry. He jerks his thumb back. “What’s that all about?”

            “Just-uh,” Barry shrugs, “Boyfriend talk?”

* * *

 

            Bruce’s hotel room is dimly lit; the space surrounded by a dozen or so lit candles. They’re scattered about the room, in different places. Barry watches the wax drip slowly down the one in front of him.

            “Barry?”

            Barry blinks, looking away from the wax tear and up at Bruce. He has a pasta-wrapped fork held mid-air, looking at Barry cautiously.

            “Hmm?”

            “You okay?” Bruce asks, “You haven’t touched your food.”

            “Oh,” Barry looks down at his untouched plate, “Sorry, I must have been… distracted.”

            “Is it the candles?”

            “What? Bruce, no-“

            “Because, I was talking with Alfred,” Bruce continues, looking around, “I thought it would look romantic but-I didn’t really know how many candles were too _much_ -“

            “Bruce,” Barry stops him, hand over his, smiling, “I like the candles. Really.”

            Bruce gulps, before returning Barry’s smile. He flips his hand under Barry’s to squeeze it.

            “Thanks.”

            Barry squeezes in return before letting go. He picks up his fork and takes a bite of his food, moaning around the utensil.

            “Oh my God,” Barry says, muffled by his chewing, “This is really good. How have we not called room service _once_ the entire time you’ve been here?”

            “Because we’re either out on the town,” Bruce smirks, “or _out on the town_.”

            “Very true.”

            They continue eating, the only sound in the large room coming from the clatter and clinking of the utensils against their plates.

            After a good amount of time, Barry pipes up again.

            “So,” he says, looking around, “where’s Alfred?”

            “He’s out looking for a gift,” Bruce tells him.

            “What for?”

            “Dick’s birthday is coming up,” Bruce smiles, looking down, twirling and un-twirling the pasta on his fork, “He asked for this new game system and-surprise, surprise, it’s supposed to come out in six months.”

            “So how…?”

            “The CEO of the company was visiting Central today,” Bruce smiles, looking up, “called to tell me about it yesterday. So I scheduled a meeting and after… _heavy_ promises… Alfred is getting it wrapped for his flight back to Gotham.”

            “What promises?” Barry asks, leaning forward. Bruce looks uncomfortable and moves the opposite way.

            “Let’s just say,” Bruce grouses, “that Batman will be appearing in a video game late next year.”

            “Get out!” Barry laughs, “You’re gonna have your own video game?” He laughs a bit harder at how red Bruce’s cheeks get.

            “I wouldn’t be so happy,” Bruce pouts, crossing his arms, “before he left he told me after my game they were going to start development on a Flash game.”

            “What?” Barry yelps, “Don’t they need my permission?”

            “Batman, Inc. is a Wayne-owned brand, including any and all intellectual property,” Bruce shrugs, “talk to me when you patent your lightning bolt.”

            “At least you’ll be seeing money,” Barry slumps, “I won’t even be able to get the game for free!”

            “You do realize I’m worth more than any game could possibly pay you in royalties, right?” Bruce smirks, raising a brow.

            “That’s true,” Barry returns the look, “plus you’re more user friendly-if you know all the cheat codes that is.”

            “Just finish your food,” Bruce breathes a laugh, taking another bite.

            “I did,” Barry says, “Not my fault you’re so slow.”

            Bruce looks over at Barry’s plate and sees nothing there except the fork and the napkin. Barry munches on a breadstick, eyes crinkled in amusement.

            “You know,” Bruce says, scratching at his wrist, looking away, “Dick’s birthday… I’m flying back to Gotham for it.”

            “Yeah?” Barry says, smile falling a bit from his face.

            “I was wondering…” Bruce starts, “y’know, if you can find the time, maybe, coming… with me?”

            “What?”

            Barry’s breathless, caught by surprise at the question. Bruce looks even more unsure and grips the table.

            “Y’know,” Bruce continues, getting quieter, “Because he’s very important to me.. and-and so are you and… well, I really want the two of you to… meet.”

            Barry just stares at Bruce, face slack and mind spinning. The longer he stays quiet, the worse Bruce feels. His chest hurts, and it becomes harder to breath.

            “Only-only if you feel like it,” Bruce says, biting his lip, “I know you can be busy-“

            “What?” Barry blinks, coming back to himself, “No, no Bruce-I… I’d love to.”

            “What?”

            Barry giggles, and Bruce can feel the air returning to him.

            “I said I’d love to,” Barry repeats, “I’m… glad you want me to meet Dick.”

            “You are?”

            “Yeah,” Barry nods, looking down, “I’m glad that you’d want me to be a part of your life back in Gotham…”

            “Of course I would,” Bruce tells him, grabbing at Barry’s hand, “why would you think I wouldn’t?”

            “It’s just…” Barry sighs, “the other day, talking about how you would be going back to Gotham and… spending more time there, I was worried if we would…”

            “I know what you mean,” Bruce nods, chuckling. Barry laughs along with him.

            “Why are we like this?”

            “Past experience?” Bruce shrugs, the smile fading from his face. Barry sees this, and squeezes his hand.

            “It’s a good thing we’ve learned from them, then,” Barry tells him, smiling hopefully.

            “Yeah, yeah,” Bruce nods, “I mean… sure I’ll be spending more of my time in Gotham, but I won’t stop visiting. It’ll just be… longer, between visits.”

            “You don’t always have to visit!” Barry adds, “I could always fly over. It might take me some time, scheduling and stuff and-why are you laughing?”

            Bruce is trying to hide it, but Barry catching him has Bruce releasing his laughter. He wipes a tear from his eye.

            “It’s just,” Bruce breathes, “It’s-I just remembered…” He starts up once more.

            “Remembered what?”

            “You can _run_.”

            Barry’s jaw drops. He leans back, and lets out a harsh breath.

            “I… can’t believe I forgot that.”

            Bruce nods, red-faced, trying to stop laughing. Barry’s slack face isn’t helping him, at all.

            “I haven’t laughed this hard in ages…”

            Barry looks up, at Bruce struggling to regain his composure. He’s clutching his chest, a few more tears rolling down his face. His eyes are a bright blue, and his hair is a little wild.

            He smiles warmly at Bruce.

            “I’m glad.” 

* * *

             Joe’s relaxing with a good book, a glass of scotch, and a quiet house. After Barry had finally left, he kicked back on the couch. He’s been like that for two hours, and is not inclined to change that.

            Which is why he shoots his phone over on the table a harsh look for ringing.

            “Thought I turned you off,” he grumbles. It stops ringing, only to resume once more. Joe sighs, and picks himself up. He shuffles over to the phone and picks it up.

            “Joe speaking… _You?”_

            His grip hardens on the phone, plastic creaking. A dark feeling flashes itself across his face.

            “You have the _nerve_ calling me now, after all these years?” he says, voice venomous. He looks over to his scotch, and wishes he hadn’t finished the bottle with the last glass. The person on the other end speaks.

            “I don’t want your apologies,” Joe interrupts, “your excuses. You had all this time to call me to… to _find_ me, and you don’t.”

            “Now don’t Joe me, I don’t want any of what you’re trying to sell me, I’m done, you here me. I’m over it. Put that all behind me the first time. Now, do me a favor and _stop_ trying to contact me.”

            Joe pounds the ‘end’ button, then throws the phone against the wall in frustration. It shatters across the floor, leaving a dent in the plaster. Joe stares at it, breathing harsh and heavy.

            He sinks to his knees, and starts to cry.

* * *

 

            In a dark office room, tendrils of smoke rises from a cigar left half-finished in the ashtray. The only light comes from a small desk lamp, turned on and towards a book nearby. It’s open, along with a few open files.

            Someone peers down at the words, finger trailing across the lines, reading, until a small _ping_ disturbs the process.

            The person turns towards their phone, grabbing it, and accessing the message, opening the attachment.

            A crooked smile shines in the darkness.

            On the phone, a clear picture of Batman and Flash, kissing, takes up the screen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like? Pique your interest? Feel warm inside? WELL JUST WAIT FOR NEXT CHAPTER!  
> Leave a kudos and a comment!


	20. Bolt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What starts out as a nice day for the gang quickly turns sour as one of their own goes missing. Now, on the hunt to find the truth, they discover that the missing person is only the catalyst to the final arc.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everybody!
> 
> Sorry it took me forever to get this chapter out but I had the MOST trouble finding the time and the motivation to complete it. Things are getting rougher, because not only am I working and going to school but I'm also trying to find a paying internship, so a lot of my writing has been spent working on Cover Letters. But also, I'm trying to work on some more original pieces and that in and of itself is stressful.
> 
> And finally, I've just been getting tired of the Flash TV series. Season 3 has let me down so much, honestly, that I've decided to stop watching it every week and just watch it when it all comes on Netflix. And my main problems come from how they've been writing Barry because he's become such a stupid character and the writers keep doing this cycle of "don't time travel/I'm gonna time travel" which is just EXHAUSTING. Plus, I've never been a fan of how they did Iris and Barry in this show and I know they are most likely going to get together, but what really put the nail in the coffin for me was how Barry proposed, then Iris decided to wait, then an episode later she wants to get married, and he decides to wait, then the NEXT episode, he decides to propose AGAIN. CAN THESE CHARACTERS MAKE A DECISION THAT LASTS MORE THAN A FUCKING EPISODE?!? I just want better writers, and I wish they explored their relationship more because, to me, it looks like Barry has been obsessed with Iris since he was a child and never moved past it, and has been trying to control her to keep her safe. And that creeps me out. Also, last point, but they just keep doing Caitlin Snow dirty, and I want her to have an arc where she is pampered like the queen she is, without unworthy love interests. End Rant.
> 
> But I digress, enjoy the first part of the final arc of this story. (Sorry for the long A/N)

            The night air seems to cut through Barry’s costume, sending a shiver rushing up his body. He coils into himself, rubbing his arms. High up on the rooftop, Barry takes a deep breath, and stares as the steam ekes out from between his lips.

            Suddenly, he feels a weight wrap itself around his shoulders, and a dark cape covering his body. He leans back into Bruce, and kisses his head where it rests on his shoulder.

            “You looked cold,” Bruce shrugs as best he could, keeping his focus on the building across from them. Barry rolls his eyes.

            “Sure.”

            Barry trails his eyes back over to the building, humming as Bruce’s body heat seeps into his. He moves to embrace Bruce’s hand, tangling Bruce’s fingers with his and holding it against his chest, over the lightning bolt symbol.

            “Remind me again why we’re here and not in bed?”

            “The string of heists perpetrated by Arkham residents seem random but all have one common thread,” Bruce explains, mouth fixed in a hard line, “Wayne Enterprises.”

            “And we’re on a roof and not in the building you own because…?”

            “Because I can’t stop a raid as Bruce Wayne,” Bruce smirks now, pressing his cheek against Barry’s, “and you can’t stop it as my charming but clumsy boyfriend.”

            “You think I’m charming?” Barry giggles, pausing slightly before pouting and shooting Bruce a fierce side-eye. “You think I’m clumsy?”

            “And slow,” Bruce shrugs, kissing Barry on his cheek, “But I love you anyway.”

            “I _really_ feel it.”

            “Good.”

            They stay like that for a while, staring at the building. Barry doesn’t know how many hours pass, but he does know when it’s time to call it quits. By the fifth time he catches himself slipping, Barry decides he’s had enough. He yawns dramatically, craning his head all the way back.

            “Tired?”

            “Maybe a little,” Barry smiles, eyes lidded, “It’s been a long night doing… absolutely _nothing_.”

            “You get used to it,” Bruce shrugs.

            “Well, when someone has all the money in the _world_ and doesn’t _need_ to wake up for work in the morning,” Barry says, “it’s easy to get used to it.”

            “Just what are you implying Allen?”

            “ _Nothing_ …” he laughs, “Only that if you want your charming, accident-prone boyfriend to get his requested vacation days, he needs to be at work _on time_.”

            “I wouldn’t want to stop you getting your days,” Bruce says, backing off Barry. Their hands, still clasped, force Barry to turn. Bruce pulls him in close.

            “Until later,” Bruce says, kissing Barry. He pulls back, Barry chasing after him.

            “Later,” Barry repeats. Barry squeezes Bruce’s hand before dashing away. Bruce watches him, his cape fluttering behind him.

            Barry, on the scenic route, takes his time getting home. He’s jogging, which is definitely faster than a jet but slower than his average speed. It might have to do with the overwhelming tiredness weighing down his every step. Or maybe, and more likely, with the billionaire vigilante he left on that rooftop.

            Barry bites down on his bottom lip, blood rushing to his cheeks. Just the mere thought of Bruce sends lightning coursing through his body – a feeling he should be used to at this point. The way Bruce makes him feel, however… he may never get used to that.

            ‘ _And I’m okay with that._ ’

            “ _HELP!_ ”

            Barry skids to a halt, thrown out of his musings by the shrill cry.

            “ _Heeeeelp!”_

            Without a second thought, Barry speeds off towards the sound, home and heart completely out of mind. 

* * *

 

            Joe stares blankly at his computer screen, fingers hovering over the keyboard. The untouched Word document matches his stare, the little dash blinking in and out of existence rhythmically.

            Suddenly, his view is taken up by a mug of coffee. Joe startles, and leans back. He looks up to see Eddie frowning down at him.

            “Thanks,” Joe says, taking the cup, “Needed this. Was starting to zone out.”

            “You’ve been doing a lot of that lately,” Eddie says, leaning against Joe’s desk. He takes a sip of his own coffee, “What’s going on Joe?”

            Joe looks away, gulping down the coffee, uncaring to how his tongue burned with every ounce.

            “Joe.”

            “Sorry,” Joe pulls the cup away, now empty, “I really _needed_ that.” He takes a breath. “Just been staying up later than I should,” he lies, “I guess my age is finally catching up to me.”

            Eddie squints, but doesn’t say anything. He takes another sip of his drink. “Well,” he finally says, “don’t let Singh hear you. Otherwise you’ll be on the track towards an early retirement faster than Barry.”

            “Speaking of,” Joe switches gears, “you see him get in yet?”

            “No,” Eddie tells him, “He didn’t come in with you?”

            “He had a late… _date_ ,” Joe smirks, “I figured he’d be spending the night with Bruce.”

            “Well, speak of the bat…”

            Bruce enters the police station just then, dressed more casually then usual in jeans and a cotton button down. He walks towards Joe and Eddie, greeting the two with a smile and a wave.

            “Joe, Eddie,” Bruce says, “How are you two doing?”

            “Getting by,” Joe shrugs.

            “What about you,” Eddie smirks, “must have been a _real_ late night. I’m sure Barry’s still tired.”

            “Did he tell you?” Bruce asks, “I mean, it explains why he wouldn’t pick up the phone but… he wasn’t out _that_ late.”

            Joe and Eddie look at each other before returning their gaze to Bruce. Joe leans forward in his chair.

            “You mean Barry wasn’t with you all night?”

            “No,” Bruce tells them, “Barry was getting tired so he went home… at least, I _thought_ he went home.”

            “I haven’t seen Barry since yesterday afternoon,” Joe says.

            Bruce frowns, a knot coiling in his gut. He walks away from Joe’s desk, the two detectives following him. They make their way to Barry’s lab, as fast as they can without arousing suspicion.

            Bruce makes it there first, and throws the door open.

            The lab is empty, its equipment untouched. Ice runs through Bruce’s veins.

            “Where is he?” 

* * *

 

            “…quickly recover… ….keep him sedated… …all times…”

            Barry struggles to wake up, eyes blinking against a rough strip of fabric. All he sees is darkness.

            He tries to move, but his wrists and ankles are trapped. He sluggishly attempts to break free, pulling and shuffling around.

            “He’s awake-!”

            “ _Wha?”_ Barry slurs, “ _Wh’re ‘m I?”_

He feels a sharp pain in the crook of his elbow, before a low voice whispers near his ear.

            “Relax Flash, in due time.”

            Barry’s out again not soon after. 

* * *

 

            Bruce stands frozen in STAR, staring at the space normally occupied by Barry’s costume. His arms are crossed, hands gripped tight against his biceps. He squeezes them every few seconds, to keep his mind away from… other possibilities.

            His frown deepens.

            “You’re only going to make yourself feel worse.”

            Caitlin sidles up to Bruce, joining him. Bruce doesn’t look at her.

            “I already feel it,” he says, “Dammit, if I had only-“

            “Don’t.”

            “What?”

            “Don’t get in that headspace,” Caitlin tells him, “it won’t do you any good.”

            “I don’t care how _I_ feel.”

            “Fine,” Caitlin smirks, “it won’t do _Barry_ any good if you’re distracted. And how he’ll feel knowing you’re blaming yourself-“

            “Alright,” Bruce sighs, turning, “you made your point.”

            “I always do,” Caitlin smiles, “now come on, we’re getting close to pin-pointing Barry’s location.”

            She nudges him, and then turns back towards the rest of the group. Bruce takes one last look at the empty space before following.

            Back at the panel, Cisco types away, Joe and Eddie hanging over his shoulder. Bruce and Caitlin make it back just as Cisco jumps away, a smile on his face.

            “Bingo!” he laughs, “Got a lock on Barry’s signal!”

            Caitlin looks towards Bruce with a small smile. He returns it.

            “So where is he?” Joe asks.

            “He’s… moving?”

            “What?”

            Bruce walks over to the screen, following Cisco’s finger along the screen. It shows the little blip that’s supposed to represent Barry, trudging along on the cityscape.

            “That’s good right?” Eddie asks, “He’s alive and moving.”

            “He’s going about 2 miles an hour,” Cisco says, “that’s definitely not good for Barry.”

            “Than we shouldn’t be sitting here,” Joe says, moving away, “Cisco, text me the coordinates. Bruce, come with me.”

            Eddie looks at him, “Shouldn’t he change into his… _other_ suit?”

            “In daylight?” Bruce asks, “No, Joe’s right, for now this looks like a job for Bruce Wayne.” 

* * *

 

            The park is nicely crowded this time of day. Kids chase each other around the playground. Mothers and fathers watch from afar and chatting amongst themselves. Couples and friends sitting under shady trees or on picnic blankets, enjoying the sun. Runners make their way along the path, passing cart after cart of food and drinks.

            Bruce watches this all with a frown, his eyes darting everywhere for a familiar figure. Joe walks over to him, two hot-dogs in hand. He holds one up to Bruce. Bruce raises a brow at the proffered snack.

            “What?” Joe asks, chomping down into his food, “You’re drawing attention with your whole ‘doom and gloom’ look. Eat and try not to look like a rain cloud.”

            Bruce frowns deeper, but takes it. He takes a large bite and chews slowly.

            “So,” Joe says, mouth full of another bite, “any sign of him?”

            “Not that I can see,” Bruce says, still looking. He swallows, and moves to take another bite of the hot dog when he feels something nudge itself against his leg.

            A bulldog, barely two or three years old, rubs himself against Bruce’s leg, looking up at him with large eyes.

            “I think he wants your hot-dog,” Joe smiles, barely controlling his laughter. Bruce rolls his eyes, but bends down onto his knee and holds it out to the dog. Without warning the dog reaches out and bites down on the bun, tearing it apart. Bruce blinks in surprise. Then, his eyes catch sight of the dog’s collar.

            Joe feels more laughter bubbling up when his phone starts to ring. He turns away and pulls it out.

            “Joe here-“

            “How is he?”

            “How’s who?”

            “Barry,” Cisco continues, “is he okay?”

            “We still haven’t found Barry,” Joe says, “why do you think-“

            “Barry’s tracker says he’s right on top of you.”

            “Joe.”

            Joe turns. The dog’s collar is now in Bruce’s hands, the dog resting comfortably on the ground next to him. Bruce hands Joe the collar, and it makes all his nerves stand on end.

            The tag is a small circle with a lightning bolt across it. And on its back: Barry’s tracker.

            “Cisco,” Joe says, “We have a problem.” 

* * *

 

            Bruce swings from rooftop to rooftop, eyes scanning the streets below him. The lenses in his cowl scan each street, every building, and even people, searching for something that can lead him to Barry.

            He’s not above scanning animals either.

            _“So this little guy had Barry’s tracker on the entire time?”_

_The dog lifts his head, staring straight into Cisco’s eyes. He blinks before returning to his sleep. Cisco huffs and turns back to the assembled group._

_“Apparently,” Joe grumbles, “which means that something **definitely** happened to the boy.”_

_“Maybe he wanted some alone time and put the tracer on the dog so we wouldn’t find him?” Eddie tries. The looks shot from him, even from the dog who deigned to open one eye for him, has him scratching his head. “Yeah, wishful thinking.”_

_“What do we do now?” Caitlin asks, “It’s not like we can ask the dog what he knows.”_

_“Maybe…”_

_“No, Cisco.”_

_“Well then I’m out of ideas!” Cisco shouts, arms thrown wide in frustration, “If we can’t interrogate Bolt then I don’t know what else to do!”_

_“You’re so- Bolt?”_

_Everyone now turns to look at Cisco._

_“What?”_

_“You named the dog?” Joe asks._

_“Well, what else are we gonna do with him?” Cisco says, “He obviously didn’t take Barry and I don’t want to put him back on the streets!”_

_“Unbelievable,” Caitlin shakes her head. She turns to Bruce, only to find he’s moved._

_He’s over by Bolt, staring down at the bulldog. The bulldog notices his presence, and lifts his head up to stare at Bruce like he did Cisco earlier. However, after a beat, Bolt tilts his head, and his tongue lolls out of his jaw. Bruce hums quietly to himself and scratches Bolt behind the ear._

_“I’m going to head to my hotel room,” Bruce says, still scratching Bolt, “it’ll be dark in an hour or two, I’ll go out and search the city. Keep checking the collar – there has to be something.”_

_He leaves not soon after._

            Bruce lands on top of the roof, feet heavy on the pavement. He takes a deep breath and hisses it out. He walks over to a nearby chimney and leans against it, scrubbing his hand over his face.

            “C’mon Barry,” he whispers, “where are you?”

            “Bruce, you there?”

            Bruce taps his cowl, “I’m here. You got anything?”

            “We _think_ we know where Barry was when he lost the tracker.”

            Bruce pushes off the chimney, walking towards the edge of the roof. “How?”

            “Well,” Cisco starts, “we checked the tracker’s memory and found it wasn’t damaged. So we took the data and combed through it to see if we could find the moment it went from Barry to the dog, and we noticed that at some point the speed levels decreased enormously and stayed at that speed until, well – you found Bolt.”

            “Where did the switch happen?”

            “An alleyway nearby, actually,” Cisco says, “about three blocks north and two avenues east. Good luck!”

            The line goes dead not soon after.

            Bruce wastes no time jumping across rooftops until he finds the alleyway Cisco was talking about. It’s a mess, and Bruce can see definite signs of a struggle: upturned trash cans, a dent in the dumpster, some blood splayed across some bricks. Bruce runs his hand over it, hoping it wasn’t Barry’s.

            Suddenly, his sensors pick something up out of the corner of his eye.

            Bruce moves towards some of the trash cans, sifting through the garbage until he finds what alerted his systems.

            Barry’s lightning symbol isn’t a good omen.

            “I was wondering when you’d get here…”

            _Barry arrives on the scene seconds after the following shriek. He followed_ _the noise to an alleyway where a thug has cornered a little girl. Barry’s expression darkens._

_“Hey!” he calls out, grabbing their attention, “isn’t it past her bedtime?”_

_“Beat it, Flash,” the thug scoffs, turning back to the girl. He lifts her up by her collar, holding her at arm’s length as she kicks her small legs back and forth. She struggles to break free, tiny hands clutching his big, meaty one, and her golden curls bouncing up and down._

_“Let her go.”_

_“Should I Flash?” he laughs, “Or are you gonna do somethin’ about it?”_

_“Help me Flash!” the girl screams, “Help!”_

_Barry’s glare intensifies. He doesn’t say a word, rushing in and punching the guy square in the jaw. Blood spurts from his nose and mouth, and he falls into the dumpster, banging into it. The thug crumbles instantly, falling back. His grip on the girl loosens, and she starts to fall._

_Barry doesn’t let her. He catches her by the waist and slowly lowers her down to the ground. He bends on a knee and smiles at her._

_“I’m sorry you had to go through that,” he says._

_“It’s okay,” she giggles, twisting her foot in the dirt, a finger innocently placed on her dimple, “I got to meet you, didn’t I?”_

_“Maybe next time it’s under better circumstances,” Barry laughs, moving to get up. She grabs his hand and pulls him back down._

_“Wait!” she stops him, “Can I give you a ‘wittle kiss? To show my thanks?”_

_“Uh… okay?” Barry says, smile falling only a bit by the strange request. “One peck and we’ll bring you back to your parents.”_

_“Okie-dokie!”_

_Barry turns, offering his cheek, only to feel her hands grab both sides of his face and pull him forward. Her lips only touch his for a nano-second before he flies backwards and into the trashcans. He looks at her with wide-eyes, scrubbing at his lips._

_“What’s wrong with you?” he asks, frozen._

_“C’mon,” the little girl laughs, “it’s not cheatin’ if **Batman** don’t find out.”_

_“You…” he starts before his mind fogs up and his mouth goes numb. His eyelids start drooping further down, and his body loses all control. “You… wha’ you… do t’me?”_

_“In due time, Flash,” she cackles, picking up one of the trash can lids, “but I think it’s way past your **bed time**.”_

_**WHACK!**_

            “Baby Doll.”

            Batman glares at the girl and her two lackeys as they stand at the mouth of the alleyway. He quietly deposits Barry’s emblem into his belt. Baby Doll takes a quick puff of the cigarette in her mouth before dropping it and squishing it with her heel. She snaps her fingers.

            “Attack.”

            The two men rush Bruce, the first one swinging almost immediately once in range. Bruce flips back, dodging the punch and kicking the other man up the chin. He flies back, his friend ducking to dodge him. Bruce lands a few feet away, and pulls out a bat-a-rang. He throws it, hitting the thug in the shoulder.

            “Gah!”

            Bruce launches forward, finishing with a swift uppercut. He reaches for his bat-a-rang when he hears the click of a gun.

            “Like it?” Baby Doll asks, inches from Bruce with a tommy gun in her hand, “it came with the Dream House.”

            Bruce narrowly avoids being gunned down, rolling towards the trashcans and ducking for cover. He pulls his grappling hook out from his utility belt and fires towards the nearest fire escape. The hook latches, and he pulls himself up.

            “Stay… still!”

            He drops halfway towards the fire escape and launches himself towards Baby Doll. He kicks the gun out of her hands and knocks her onto back.

            “Stupid Batman,” she growls, “always ruining my fun.”

            “Baby Doll,” Batman leans forward, “where. Is. _Flash_?”

            “You’ll see…”

            “What’s that supposed to me-!”

            _THUNK!_

Batman catches the drive before it gets lost in the dark of the night. He looks at it for a beat before clutching it tight in his grip. He eases off Baby Doll and backs away, going to collect his bat-a-rang.

            “What? That’s it?” Baby Doll asks, “You afraid of punching a little girl?”

            “First, you’re 42,” Bruce puts everything back into his utility belt, “And secondly, that’d just be cruel. I hope you finally find the help you need, Mary.” He fires his grappling hook into the night and flies off.

            Baby Doll shakes her fist up at him, tears in her eyes, and her voice carrying over the sirens that grow louder and closer:

            “That’s worse than the punch!”

* * *

             Back at STAR, the group has gathered around the monitors. Bruce and Caitlin are on one side, while Eddie and Joe are on the other, in the center, Cisco sits with Bolt on his lap.  Barry's lightning bolt emblem is clutched tight in Bruce's hand.

            “Are you sure you all want to watch?” Cisco asks, “There’s no telling what could be on this-”

            “Just put it in Cisco,” Joe says.

            “Okay.”

            Cisco inserts the USB, and immediately goes to search what’s on it.

            “There’s only a video file,” Cisco mutters, “I’m clicking on it… now.”

            The window takes up the entire screen. It’s black for the first few seconds, before a picture of Barry and Bruce pop up. It’s from a few nights ago, with them both in costume and caught in a… _precarious_ situation. Cisco pauses the video, and they all turn to Bruce.

            “A little… _strange_ ,” Eddie says, “but I guess it’s meant for you.”

            “A message,” Bruce says, eyes forward and dark, “saying they… that whoever is behind this… they _know_.”

            “Which means Barry was taken because…”

            “Because of _me_.”

            Bruce bites back a scream and slams his fist against the monitor. Caitlin put a hand on Bruce’s shoulder and squeezes. Joe sighs and turns back to Cisco. “Keep playing.”

            Cisco hits play, and the picture fades for another, grainier shot. This one has everyone biting back a gasp, and Bolt even yelps.

            Bruce looks back at the monitor and feels his heart break.

            There on screen, blindfolded and gagged and restrained to a chair, is Barry. He’s still dressed in his costume, but he doesn’t seem to be moving. There’s an IV hooked into him, the drip pumping straight into him.

            “Where is he?” Joe asks, “Why aren’t they telling us.”

            Just then, in the corner of the screen, Bruce notices something flash on before the video cuts to an end.

            “Cisco,” he leans forward, “rewind a few seconds.”

            “Okay…?”

            “And… pause!”

            Bruce examines the screen, then leans back, a grim expression set on his face.

            “I know where Barry is.”

            “How?”

            Bruce points to the upper right corner, where the smallest of windows can be seen. And where Cisco paused it, the bright image of the symbol of Batman’s costume is clearly outlined in the night sky.

            “They’re in Gotham,” Bruce growls.

            “Why go back now?” Caitlin asks.

            “Because,” Bruce tells them, “whoever is behind this… they’re ready to end it.”

            The group looks at each other in apprehension and worry for what’s to come.  Bruce turns away first, walking towards the exit.  He squeezes the lightning bolt and makes a promise:

             ' _I'm coming for you Barry.  And I'll make whoever's behind this **pay**._ '

* * *

 

            A bolt of lightning shoots across the sky, booming thunder and signaling the rain to fall. It batters the window, and a lone figure in the shadows watches this from behind his desk. Soon enough, the phone rings, and disturbs his relaxation. He picks up the phone.

            “Hello? Yes, this is he… she did! Say what you want about Baby Doll, but she knows how to deliver… yes, that will be all. Thank you.”

            He hangs up, and turns to face the only other occupant in the room. His glasses catch a glare on the only light in the room, and his bleach white teeth shine in the dark.

            Barry’s eyes squint, and he bites on the cloth in his mouth, doing his best to speak.

            “Your boyfriend will be here soon enough, Flash,” the man laughs, “And finally, once and for all, we’ll see who _truly_ is Gotham’s worthy protector.”

            _CRACK! BOOM!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy! I hope it was worth the wait!
> 
> If you're wondering who the villain was she was a really great villain in Batman: The Animated Series and I warn you if you look her up you will ultimately feel sad for her. Like, so sad.
> 
> And if you're wondering who the dog is... it's just a dog. I wanted to give Team Flash a dog and now they have one so, that's written in!
> 
> I'm going to try and get something out, might not be until early May because I have two group projects on the horizon so, yay for me, but if it is out earlier you're lucky.


	21. Revelations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With Barry gone to Gotham, it's only natural the rest of the group follows him. But will Bruce learn to get along with people who aren't Barry? Especially with Barry in the clutches of the mastermind behind this all, trapped at his mercy?
> 
> Will Bruce find out where he is in time? Or will he go insane with worry?
> 
> Read to find out!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! Hope you really like this chapter, it's been sitting in my doc file for awhile, only the first page written. I've been swamped with work and studies so I've had either no time or no motivation to write.
> 
> But I'll explain more at the bottom of the notes, you probably want to read!
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> (Be warned, things take a turn here)

            Bruce doesn’t wait for the car to stop before he’s jumping out of the backseat. He pulls his coat tight around his body, shielding himself from the high-powered winds of the tarmac. His mouth is set in a firm line as he passes plane after plane, inching closer to his own private one. He rounds the corner, but stop shorts when he sees what’s waiting for him.

            Or rather… _who_ are waiting for him.

            “What do you think you’re doing?”

            The group turns, all eyes on Bruce. Joe, Eddie, Caitlin, and Cisco have duffels over their shoulders and haven’t changed from when last Bruce saw them.

            They split, forced apart by an unseen attendant. The small man makes his way towards Bruce, shrinking at the sight of his deep frown.

            “I’m sorry, sir,” the attendant says, “They say they are scheduled to fly with you – even though I checked with the pilot and the manifesto only says you – but then two of them flashed _badges_ -“

            “It’s alright,” Bruce says, stopping him with a wave of his hand, eyes locked on the other four, “I’ll handle this. Tell the pilot to start his prep.”

            The attendant nods, scurrying away and up the steps.

            Bruce doesn’t move. Instead, the group descends on him, varying their levels of annoyance.

            “Just what did you think you were doing?” Joe asks, reaching Bruce first, “Leaving us back there?”

            “What I was doing was rescuing Barry,” Bruce says, “and I can’t do that if I have to babysit-“

            “Babysit?” Eddie yells, “Do we look like helpless little babies, Bat-boy?!?”

            “You don’t know Gotham,” Bruce growls, glaring at Eddie, “I don’t need to look after tourists-”

            “We’re not tourists,” Cisco scoffs, “we’re _rescuers_.”

            “Besides,” Caitlin adds, “it’s not like we haven’t faced our own set of bad guys here in Central.”

            “Your bad guys are nothing like what Gotham has waiting,” Bruce starts, “You’ve seen just a _taste_ of what Gotham offers. Firefly… Mad Hatter… _Joker_. And now the one pulling the strings on all of this is calling me out – _me_.”

            “And we’ll be there, at your back,” Joe says, clapping a heavy hand on Bruce’s shoulder, “just like Barry would if he was still here.”

            Bruce looks away, staring at the nose of his plane. The group watches him, breath caught tight in their throat waiting. He coughs, and finally returns Joe’s stare.

            “Alright,” he says, “but I’ll need all of you to _listen_. This isn’t a crime anymore… it’s _war_.”

            Bruce breaks away, walking up into the plane without a second glance back. Joe waits a beat before he follows, Cisco hot on his heels.

            Caitlin turns to Eddie, “You coming?”

            “Yeah, yeah,” Eddie scoffs, “big billionaire butt-head…” He passes Caitlin and goes up the steps.

            Caitlin is halfway up the steps until she feels a vibration coming from her coat pocket. She stops and pulls it out, reading the text and smiling just a bit.

            “Caitlin, we’re pulling out in two!”

            She puts the phone away and climbs the rest of the way up the steps and into the plane.

            With extraordinary speed, the stairs are pulled away before the plane makes its way onto the runway. The plane starts to move, rolling along, picking up speed. Finally, it lifts off the ground and powers into the sky, leaving Central City behind.

            Next stop: Gotham. 

* * *

 

            “Wake up.”

            The cold water bites against Barry’s skin, seeping into his costume. He startles against his restraints, jerking upright. His eyes try to adjust to the darkness, spinning around, trying to lock down on _something_.

            In the end, the only thing he can see is the man in the stark white lab coat, ruby glasses blood red in the lack of light. His arms are hidden behind him, and he stands stiffly in front of Barry. He’s bald, but the goatee he sports isn’t making Barry feel any better.

            “Who are,” Barry starts, “Who are you?”

            “A… friend.”

            “…Really?”

            “Well, I could be,” the man smirks, “Dependant on a few things.”

            “What would those… ‘things’ be exactly?” Barry asks, frowning, “I mean, it’s obviously not something I’m gonna like otherwise you would have said them outright instead of being so, y’know, _cryptic_ about it.”

            “Very observant,” the man smirks, walking closer, watching Barry very closely. Barry squirms in his seat. “And very witty – which is odd, given your current situation.”

            “Well, I am used to this,” Barry scoffs.

            “To what?” the man stops, leaning into Barry’s ear, “To using humor as a way to cope with fear or putting yourself in dangerous situations for others in, what I would say is an educated guess, a way to make up for not being able to save someone _very dear_ to you in the past?”

            “Very educated,” Barry quips, a knot tightening in his stomach, “if I didn’t know any better I’d say this was a hobby of yours.”

            “More like a profession,” the man walks away, “as they say, do what you love.”

            “I didn’t know they paid people to be creeps.”

            “There’s that humor,” the man chuckles, “what a brilliant contrast to Batman’s dour nature. No wonder you two work so well together.”

            Barry says nothing, instead locking his jaw tight and looking down.

            “Nothing to say now?” he says, peering down at Barry while vicious smile uncurls from his lips, his teeth blinding like pearls, “How about I help you out? I’m going to ask you a few questions, and you’ll be a good little hero and answer them.” He grabs Barry’s chin and forces it up, making their eyes lock. “I’ve found that eye contact helps build a sense of trust between me and my patients.”

            “I’m not one of your _patients_.” Barry growls, trying to squirm out of the man’s hold. He’s too weak to break free.

            “It is my _civic_ duty to help any poor soul who enters into this facility,” the man says, “And since you seem to be suffering from heavy… _delusions_ … I can only do what I swore to.”

            “So I take it you’re a Doctor?” Barry asks through gritted teeth.

            “Well… I’m more than just that,” he says, “but _I_ will be the one asking the questions.”

            He steps back, dropping Barry’s chin. The man reaches overhead to flick on a light. It’ bright, hurts Barry’s eyes, and buzzes worse than a wasp. He circles him, the ruby lenses flaring against the single light.

            “So,” the doctor starts, “Mr. Flash? Is there another name you’d wish I’d call you by?”

            “No,” Barry responds, “Flash is just fine.”

            “Pity. Now… _Flash_ , I seem to have hit a sore spot earlier. When you were younger who did you feel you let down-“

            “I don’t think this is a first date kind of question.”

            “You mean you didn’t discuss deceased parents with Batman the first time you met him,” he stops right behind Barry, “because I think you two have that in common.”

            Barry swallows around the lump in his throat.

            “Or was it obvious from the moment you two locked eyes that there was a… commonality?” the doctor continues, leaning down closer to Barry. “Do you two let your _bodies_ do the talk-“

            “Just what do you want from me?” Barry breaks, squirming in his chair.

            The doctor waits a beat before reacting. His laugh sends a chill straight through Barry’s heart. And with a blinding speed Barry thought only he had the doctor was in front of him, hands strangling the cuffs around his wrists. His face was near pressed against Barry’s, to the point Barry could almost make out the color of his eyes.

            “I want what you have,” he growls, “I want the Bat. I want to know who he is, where he operates, and I want to _destroy_ him.”

            “It’s you, isn’t it? The one behind all the stuff in Central?” Barry answers instead, the pieces fitting together in his head. He smiles, chuckling, “You’re never going to beat him. And I’m never going to tell you _shit_.”

            The doctor’s jaw tightens, going as still as a statue. Then all at once he swings at Barry, slamming his head against the chair. He huffs and steps back.

            “I’m sorry,” he says, sneering at Barry’s bruising face, “I didn’t want to resort to violence. I thought we could be civil. But I guess if you won’t co-operate one way… I’ll just have to get you to do so in another… capacity.”

            “What are you talking about?” Barry asks, “What’s going on?”

            “Don’t worry boy,” he says, walking away from Barry. Barry hears a buzz and suddenly two men in white coats walk in. They grab at Barry, injecting something cold into his body. They unlatch him from his restraints, and he shoots up to run.

            Almost instantly he falls back into the arms of the waiting men.

            “Wha’… wha’ did you do t’me?”

            “Relax, Flash,” he hears distantly while being carried out of the room, “you’ll find out soon enough.”

            Barry fights against the serum working its way through his body, struggling against the weights tied to his eyelids. He tries counting the fluorescent lamps lining the hallway but stops after the fifth time he repeated five. Suddenly, the men turn right and enter another dark room.

            “You’re patient is ready doctors,” one says, “Boss signed all the paperwork for your treatment.”

            _SNAP!_

            “Lucky us! We almost went on our lunch break!”

            Barry’s eyes widen at the familiar voice, and the haunting laughter that follows. He makes one last attempt at freedom.

            “Now now, Flashy-poo,” Joker says, injecting another dose of the serum into Barry, “you’ll be all better soon enough! Just have a little faith in your _doctors_! Ha HA!”

            Barry sees the glint of a scalpel before succumbing to the darkness. 

* * *

 

            Bruce glares out the window, watching as the plane flies above Pennsylvania. He hasn’t moved an inch since boarding, brooding at the edge of his seat from take off to now.

            Joe and Cisco sit on the other side of the row, distracting themselves to the best of their abilities. Cisco is fiddling with a tiny device, playing with the wires and screwing in various nuts and bolts. Joe has a file in his hand, but Bruce hasn’t seem him turn past the first page.

            Caitlin is near the front of the plane, scrolling through her phone, and the only one that has managed a smile the entirety of the flight.

            And Eddie…

            “You know doing that’ll give you permanent age lines.”

            Bruce finally turns his glare towards Eddie, who decided to sit in front of Bruce before the plane took off.

            “What?” Eddie shrugs, “I don’t think Barry would want to come back and find out that his boyfriend turned into an old man.” Then he snorts, “Then you’d really look like a sugar daddy-“

            “Do you really think this is helping?”

            “I’m just talking, geez,” Eddie mumbles, rubbing at his head. He takes a deep breath and tries again.

            “You know, I was thinking of telling Patty about this. Not… flying to Gotham and you as the Batman. But the part where Barry is the Flash and I help him out because… I think she deserves to know the truth.”

            Bruce doesn’t react. He uncrosses his legs and crosses them again.

            “I mean, I did tell her I was going to Gotham,” Eddie continues, “and we got into a little fight – but that didn’t have anything to do with it! I’ve been mulling it over for a while and… life is short, y’know? Why shouldn’t she know? I think it’s gonna be long-term, me and her. But I’m gonna wait until Barry’s back so I don’t look like a loon-“

            “Can you for the love of God shut up?”

            Eddie leans back, eyes wide and mouth tight. Bruce’s eyes are cold and dangerous in contrast, and there’s a snarl at his lips.

            “Did you happen to think that maybe hearing about your love life isn’t something I want to do while waiting to go save Barry?” Bruce continues, leaning forward, fingers clutching at the armrests, “That maybe listening to you whine about your ‘ _problems_ ’ will only make me feel more helpless about the current situation because I’m here listening to something that has nothing to do with _anything_ that’s happening instead of saving one of the most important people in my life?!?”

            Bruce blinks, and suddenly realizes where he is. How close he moved in to Eddie, their noses inches apart. He looks to his right to see Joe and Cisco casting him strange glances. Even Caitlin has made her way back here to see what was going on.

            Bruce clears his throat and retreats, looking away.

            “…I’m sorry,” Bruce starts, “I shouldn’t have gone off on you like that.”

            “It’s okay,” Eddie says awkwardly, “I was tryin’ to distract you from… well, I guess it didn’t work.”

            “I have a real talent for obsession,” Bruce mutters darkly.

            “Hey,” Eddie places a hand on Bruce’s shoulder, forcing him to look up, “Barry will be alright. He just has to be.”

            Bruce nods. “For Barry’s sake, I hope you’re right.”

            The seatbelt light goes on, and soon enough the pilot’s voice crackles to life over the speakers.

            “We’ll now be landing in Gotham City, New Jersey. Please be patient as the descent will take a few minutes.”

            “See!” Eddie crows, “Time really does fly when… you’re… yelling and being angry about stuff…”

            Bruce rolls his eyes but buckles his belt, white knuckling the clasp.

            ‘ _Hang in there Barry_ ,’ he think, ‘ _Not just for me… but for them, too._ ’

            The plane doesn’t land fast enough. When the aircraft finally comes to a halt on the tarmac, Caitlin is the first off the plane once the stairs are lowered. Bruce watches as the other three grab their bags and head on out. He leaves last, tipping the pilot generously.

            Once out of the plane, he finds his attention diverted to the small group nearby. Joe, Cisco and Eddie are talking to Oliver, Felicity, and an older man with white hair and glasses. Meanwhile Caitlin is hugging a younger man with dark hair.

            “May I… help you?” Bruce asks, stepping into the group.

            “Bruce,” Oliver steps forward, reaching out a hand. Bruce does nothing, and Oliver withdraws it awkwardly. “We heard about Barry and we’ve come to help.”

            “Who told you?”

            Caitlin, finally out of the arms of the other man, steps forward.

            “Once you left, I texted him and Ronnie. I figured we’d need all the help we can get-“

            “I don’t need anyone _slowing me down_ -“

            “Woah,” Oliver stops him with a hand on his chest, “Caitlin did the right thing. Barry is our friend. We care what happens to him.”

            Bruce glares at Oliver, then at his hand. He looks back up.

            “So I take it you know about the-“

            “I had a feeling,” Oliver says, “becomes obvious once someone says it though.”

            Bruce looks past Oliver and at the remaining two men.

            “And what can you two do?”

            “Well,” the older man starts, “when we touch, we can combine into a hero called Firestorm allowing myself – Dr. Stein, nice to meet you – and Ronald here to change atoms at their most molecular level-“

            “We can shoot fire and fly,” Ronnie interrupts Stein, “So what do you say, are we in?”

            Bruce looks between them all and grumbles.

            “Like I have a choice,” he scoffs, walking past them all, “but you’re all finding your own ride to the Manor.”

            Ronnie looks at Cisco, “Did he just say Manor?” 

* * *

 

            Alfred stands in front of an old grandfather clock, scrubbing a rag against the varnished wood. He hums an old war song to himself, distracted to the space around him.

            That is, until he hears a small creak to his left.

            “Just where do you think you’re going Master Richard?”

            Dick sighs, and steps out of the shadows. “Stupid, old manor,” he grumbles, shuffling towards Alfred. “I heard Bruce is back, and I want to see him.”

            “I’m afraid that will have to wait,” Alfred turns to him, stuffing the rag back into his pocket, “Unfortunately Master Bruce has visitors.”

            “Visitors?” Dick raises a brow, looking around. His eyes catch on the clock, and he smiles excitedly, vibrating with curiosity.

            “Visitors?” he repeats, “Who’s down there Alfred?”

            “Unfortunately for you, Master Richard, your father has tasked me with guarding his guests from you,” Alfred says, stiffening and folding his arms behind his back. He closes his eyes, “So I must ask you return to your room at once Master Richard.” He opens his eyes. “Master Richard?”

            The grandfather clock slams shut, startling Alfred. He blinks at it, and sighs, clutching at his chest.

            “Not again.”

            Dick races down the steps, diving deeper into the Batcave. The closer he gets, the more voices he can hear.

            “…some of the fanciest hardware I’ve ever seen…”

            “…’it’s a tad drafty’ doesn’t mean light a fire Ronnie!...”

            “…how does he still have any money after blowing it on all _this_ …”

            “…a Penny and-oh my God is that a real dinosaur-“

            “Don’t touch that.”

            Dick slows down towards the end, confusion present on his face at the group Bruce has gathered around his computer.

            “Bruce?”

            The group startles, and turns towards Dick. Bruce’s eyes widen, and he blanches. He steps out from middle and walks towards his son.

            “Dick,” he starts, “what are you doing here? I thought I told-“

            “Dreadfully sorry, sir,” Alfred huffs, clambering down the stairs, “the body isn’t what it used to be.”

            “Who are these people?” Dick continues, “I thought you only talked to, like, three people.”

            Eddie snorts, and Bruce shoots him a half-hearted glare. He turns back to Dick and places a firm hand on his shoulder.

            “I’ll tell you later,” Bruce says, “right now we’re working against the clock on something very important-“

            “Can I help?” Dick asks, blinking huge, blue eyes up at Bruce. “Please, I promise to be good?”

            “We both know that’s a promise you can’t keep,” Bruce sighs, “And besides, this is too dangerous for you. For now, let the grown ups handle this and we’ll tell you all about it when we’re done.”

            Dick pouts and stands his ground. “But I want to help!” he whines.

            “Relax, kiddo,” Felicity chimes in from her seat in front of the Bat-computer, swiveling around to face him, “we’ll handle all the hard work so when the case is all said and done you and your dad and his boyfriend can have some quality family time, okay?”

            Dick blinks at Felicity, then looks up at Bruce. Bruce’s face burns red, and he looks anywhere else but at Dick.

            “What is she talking about, Bruce,” Dick starts, “you’re not dating anyone?”

            The entire room freezes.

            “Well… I…”

            Dick squints at his dad, and his pout turns into a scowl. “You’re dating someone,” he says “you’re dating some _guy_.”

            “I’ve been meaning to tell you,” Bruce rubs at his neck, “I’ve been… it’s just been really hard to find the right time…”

            “You’ve been dating for eight months!” Cisco shouts.

            “Eight months!” Dick parrots.

            Bruce dials up a half-hearted glare and shoots it at Cisco. “Like I said,” he continues, grumbling, “it was hard to find the right time-“

            “Yet you had all this time to fly back and forth from here to Central City and – hold up,” Dick starts, looking at Bruce, arms folded and eyes squinted, “Was there actually any case there?”

            “You’d think I’d lie about a case?”

            “You haven’t been forthcoming with a lot recently…”

            “Yes, there was a case,” Bruce says, frowning, “And while I was there I may have gotten a bit… _close_ to someone who was working it with me.”

            “Who’d work a case with you in Central? It’s not like there’s any other-” Dick asks, only to gasp, “You’re dating the _Flash?_ ”

            “His name is Barry,” Bruce tells him, blushing, “And I was hoping you’d get to meet him this weekend before…” He trails off, fists tightening in frustration.

            Bruce doesn’t say anything else, and he doesn’t have to. Dick reads everything he needs to know from Bruce’s body language, and comes to his own conclusions; and his own solution. Dick leaps towards Bruce and gives him a tight hug, understanding his father’s silence. Bruce stands frozen, stunned.

            “You got this Bruce,” he says, letting go, “there hasn’t been a bad guy that’s beaten you yet.”

            “…Thanks, Dick.”

            Watching from a far, Cisco turns to Eddie to see him wiping at the corner of his eye.

            “You are _not_ -“

            “Shut up,” Eddie grumbles, coughing, “it’s because of the… dust. I mean, when was the last time anyone cleaned down here?”

            “Just last Wednesday,” Alfred interrupts, walking over, “now if you’ll excuse me?” The two part and let Alfred move closer to Felicity, who’s also enwrapped in the family moment.

            “Miss Smoak, I presume?”

            “Yes Mister British Butler, sir.”

            “… _Alfred_ will do.”

            “Sorry,” Felicity winces, turning to him, “Yes, Alfred?”

            “I do believe the computer has found whatever it is you were looking for.” He points at the flashing screen, where three dots blink rhythmically across a map of Gotham.

            “Oh,” Felicity starts before jumping and turning back to the screen, “Oh! Everyone! Flashing lights! It’s done!”

            “Just what did you do?” Joe asks, “There’s three lights there, but Barry was the only one taken.”

            “I figured trying to trace the signal on Barry’s comm-link was a no go,” Felicity explains, “so I decided to scan the city for any strange or suspicious signals, and here we are.”

            Bruce walks over to the group, eyes focused on the flashing lights.

            “I know where those are,” Bruce says, “they’re all bases of operations for the head gangs in Gotham.”

            “You have more than one gang?” Eddie asks.

            Bruce counts off on his fingers, “Carmine Falcone, he and his family have been major players in the Criminal Underworld for a long time, a man by the name of Black Mask who’s recently moved in on the scene, and finally Oswald Coppelbot, otherwise known as… _The Penguin_.”

            Cisco snorts. “And I thought I came up with ridiculous names.”

            “It would make sense they would be involved,” Bruce continues, “although they have been quiet as of late… and working together is unprecedented given their history of violence with each other.” He walks away towards a glass case where his suit hangs. He presses a button and the case hisses open, allowing Bruce to reach in.

            “Thank you, Felicity,” Bruce says, pulling out his costume, “I’ll take it from here.”

            “Like Hell you will.”

            Bruce stops, turning to Oliver who has stepped out from the pack and is striding over to him.

            “Your outburst is acknowledged,” Bruce says, “but highly unnecessary.”

            “We came because we were going to help you rescue Barry,” Oliver starts, “so we’re coming with you.”

            “There’s no point in you coming.”

            “And why’s that?”

            “I know these criminals,” Bruce explains, “and while the signals are a good lead, I doubt Barry would be with any of them. The video… didn’t match any of their M.O. And there are still pieces of the puzzle that doesn’t seem to fit. I’m going to get answers.”

            “And I’m coming with you.”

            “I’ve done this before without you,” Bruce glares, “what benefit is there to you coming now?”

            “Can you honestly say you’re focused enough to do this right now?”

            Bruce grits his teeth and scowls. “What about you? You aren’t the only one with an emotional connection to… _this_.”

            “Barry’s my friend,” Oliver says, voice soft, “but _you_ love him.”

            Bruce looks away, back at his costume. He waits a beat, then grabs his cowl and stalks away.

            “Five minutes,” Bruce grumbles, “Then I’m leaving without you.” 

* * *

 

            Out in Gotham City Harbor, a giant chunk of artificial ice floats next to a nearby dock. Its lights are on, beaming out into the dark sky, and just outside there is a line of people clamoring to get inside.

            But if they knew what was really was going on behind the icy walls, they’d have different plans for the evening.

            “Get him! Get _both_ of them!”

            A dozen more hired thugs file out from different doorways, stepping over the unconscious bodies of the last gang to go up against Bruce and Oliver.

            “How many of these does he have?” Oliver asks, whacking one with his bow before round-housing another two.

            “With his money,” Bruce grumbles, grabbing an attacker from behind and hurling him at three that were coming towards him, “ _Enough._ ”

            It doesn’t take long before Oliver fells the last woman, and the duo take a look at the personnel littering the floor.

            “Hope this Penguin guy has benefits,” Oliver chuckles, cracking his knuckles. Bruce says nothing, striding towards a closed set of doors.

            On the other side of those doors, the Penguin hides behind his desk, desperately fiddling with a small radio.

            “Hello? Hello? Falcone? Mask? Anyone there!” he shouts into the receiver, squawking when Bruce kicks the solid oak down. “What’s the point of being in an alliance if you don’t pick up the-wah!”

            Bruce drags Penguin across his desk by his tie, snarling at the mobster.

            “You have something I want,” Bruce growls, glaring.

            “The only thing I have for you, Batman,” Penguin says, “is this!”

            He swings his umbrella, only to have Bruce grab it with his free hand. He pulls it from Penguin’s clutches and crushes it, letting it fall to the floor.

            “ _Wrong answer_.”

            Bruce lifts Penguin up by his collar, hauling him over to a nearby window. He kicks in the glass and pulls Penguin towards the opening.

            “What the fuck!” Penguin screams, struggling in Batman’s grip, “What do you think you’re doing?”

            “Getting answers,” Bruce continues, letting Penguin dangle from the window, his hold weak, “Now tell me: where is he?”

            “I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about,” Penguin cries, hands tightening on Bruce’s, “now put me down this instant-“

            “Batman!”

            Bruce shifts his gaze over to Oliver, who is walking up to him with a disapproving look in his eye.

            “Go away,” Bruce says, “I’m busy.”

            “You can’t just… drop him!”

            “I wasn’t,” Bruce says, Penguin sagging in relief, “I was going to do what he asked and… _put him down_.”

            Bruce’s grip slackens further, and Penguin almost slips through my fingers.

            “Wah!” he screeches, legs flying every which way, and hands clawing at Batman’s gauntlets. He turns a plea-filled stare at Oliver.

            “You’re a superhero,” he cries, “help me!”

            Oliver frowns and pulls at Bruce, knocking him and Penguin away from the window. Penguin drops from Bruce’s hands, crawling away from the window. He’s not on the floor for very long because as soon as he catches his breath he’s pulled back up and thrown against the wall, Bruce’s arm resting against his throat.

            “I’m not going to ask again,” Bruce says, “now where is he?”

            “I don’t know what you’re talking about Batman,” Penguin whimpers, “I’ve been here, every night, doing the usual: counting my money, killing squealers, flirting with my waitresses. I have it all on tape!”

            “You’ve your hand in all of Gotham’s Underworld dealings since you came on the scene,” Bruce says, “surely you know what’s been going on.”

            “You mean you don’t know?” Penguin starts, a quiet humor to his voice, “It’s been building for months and you still haven’t figured it out.”

            “And time’s running out,” Bruce growls, launching a fist next to Penguin’s head, indenting the wall, “I need to know where he is. Now!”

            “He’s been contacting all of us,” Penguin continues, staring straight into Bruce’s eyes, “Every one of your rogues. The three crime families, we were approached but decided to sit out. We’re not too keen about letting someone else run our operations. But we knew he’d be a threat, so we’ve been keeping quiet. Meeting, devising ways to gain control once his plan went active.”

            “What is he planning?” Bruce asks, leaning in until his nose was squished against Penguin’s.

            “That’s the thing,” Penguin smirks, “we didn’t know.”

            There’s a beat of silence before Bruce throws Penguin at a picture to his left, the frame shattering and falling to the floor with him. Oliver moves towards Bruce, pulling at his arm.

            “Let’s go,” he says, “he doesn’t know anything.”

            Bruce huffs, but spins on his heel. He’s under the archway before he turns and launches a bat-a-rang, cutting the receiver free from the device in Penguin’s cut-up hands.

            “Wouldn’t have been good,” Bruce says, “I already _talked_ with your friends.” He disappears with Oliver soon after that.

            The two vigilantes grapple to a nearby building, landing on the rooftop. Oliver sighs and pulls down his cowl, shooting Bruce a disapproving stare.

            “What?” Bruce asks, fists balled at his side.

            “What happened back there?” Oliver asks, arms crossed, “You nearly killed him?”

            “I would _never_ kill, unlike _some_ people,” Bruce starts, glancing at Oliver before looking out into the night, “Doesn’t mean he didn’t deserve to fall a few flights into freezing cold water.”

            “He didn’t because he had no idea what you were talking about!” Oliver shouts, “Just like how that Carmine Falcone guy didn’t need to have his jaw broken because he couldn’t answer your question. Or how Black Mask needed medical attention after you _punctured_ his _lung_.”

            “If you hadn’t noticed, this is my city,” Bruce turns on Oliver, fire burning in his eyes, “I didn’t ask you to come, and I definitely didn’t ask for your opinion on how to handle my criminals.” He stalks up to the archer, his body tense and ready to spring.

            “More like _manhandle_ ,” Oliver scoffs, pushing Bruce away, “you’re letting your emotions get the best of you.”

            “I’m in control of my emotions!” Bruce growls, pushing back at Oliver, “Maybe if you didn’t care so much about how many bad guys I roughed up-“

            “And maybe if you didn’t care so much about Barry, he wouldn’t have gotten taken!”  
            Bruce quiets, eyes going soft at Oliver’s outburst. Oliver, too, looks sad and reticent, mouth wavering in shock.

            “I,” he starts, “I didn’t mean to-“

            “No,” Bruce sighs, turning away again, “You’re right. I’m… It’s hard, dealing with all this. Not knowing where he is. What he could be going through. _Imagining_ all the… horrors he could be in right now. I can’t think straight.” He looks back at Oliver. “Barry would have been better off if I never came into his life.”

            “I wouldn’t say that,” Oliver says, walking towards Bruce and putting a comforting hand on his shoulder, “We’re going to find him. No matter what.”

            Bruce manages a smile: a weak, small one. He returns Oliver’s gesture, his hand going over Oliver’s. “Thanks.”

            “Are you two going to kiss or what?”

            The two jump apart, startled by a third party. They turn to see Selina Kyle, decked out in her leather catsuit, leaning against an air condition vent.

            Oliver is immediately on guard, raising a bow to their guest. “Who are-“

            “Selina?”

            Batman walks towards her, his shoulders relaxed. Selina lifts her goggles up and gives him a sly wink.

            “The one and only,” she starts, “You miss me? Because I missed you. It’s been lonely with you all the way in Central.”

            “Selina, how much did you hear?” Bruce asks.

            “Not much,” Selina shrugs, “On the rooftop that is. Although, I did hear quite a bit when I was in the other room of the Iceberg Lounge, stealing a few gems as a down payment on my newest car.” She pushes off the air conditioner and stalks towards Oliver. “Got to say, you would have killed him if it weren’t for your little friend here. I don’t believe we’ve met?”

            “Arrow,” Oliver replies, “And you are?”

            “The name’s Catwoman,” she purrs, “Although my _lovers_ call me Selina.”

            Oliver shoots a disbelieving glance at Bruce. He is bashful enough to look away. “You and her?”

            “We don’t have time to discuss this,” Bruce says, walking back towards the building’s edge, “we’ve wasted enough time on these men as it is.”

            “If only you brought your little speed friend along,” Selina remarks, “he’d have saved you all the time in the world.”

            Bruce pauses, looking over his shoulder at Selina. She lets her smile drop, recognizing a look in Bruce’s eyes.

            “Did I… say something I shouldn’t?”

            “You know the Flash?” Bruce asks, turning back around, “How?”  
            “I _may_ have visited Central City, looking for you,” Selina explains, walking to him, letting her fingers run up his chest, “Thought you could use some… _company_. I didn’t realize you had enough of it in _spades._ ” Bruce looks away again. “So where is he? Back in Central, keeping up the good fight?” Bruce doesn’t say anything, his jaw tightening in response.

            “He was kidnapped,” Oliver answers for him, “taken by someone who’s been planning something. Big.”

            “Him?” Selina asks, taken aback, “Why would anyone want to take him? He’s harmless and uninvolved.”

            “He wasn’t that uninvolved,” Oliver says, looking at Bruce. Selina follows his gaze and takes in the man before her. His fists have balled into his cape, and he keeps his eyes glued to the roof.

            Selina steps back, a hand raised to her mouth, “Oh…”

            There’s not a sound on the rooftop besides the wind. Oliver, feeling uncomfortable, looks away from the two. Selina wraps her arms around herself and turns away, staring out into the night.

            “So you and him… you really…?”

            “…I’m sorry, Selina.”

            “I thought,” Selina laughs, “I thought you had a rule?”

            “It just… it happened. I can’t begin to explain it.”

            “Just answer me… answer me this,” she swallows, “did we ever have a chance?”

            Bruce waits a beat, before answering softly.

            “Do you really want to know the answer to that?”

            “…No, I guess I don’t.”

            Bruce lifts his head up and looks Selina in her eyes. “You’ll always be a friend, Selina,” he says, “You’ve proven yourself one time and time again.”

            Selina smiles, bittersweet, “And you keep _surprising_ me.”

            “Now, we really need to get going-“

            “Wait,” Selina stops him, “I – I need to be honest with you.”

            “…What are you talking about,” Bruce asks, stepping down from the ledge.

            “Those jewels, I wasn’t stealing them for selfish reasons,” she starts, “I was stealing them for protection.”

            “Why would you need protection?” Bruce asks, “Selina, do you know what’s going on?”

            “I found out, a couple nights ago,” Selina continues, walking away from Bruce, “every villain was sent a notice. To either get on board or get out. I happened to be raiding a hideout when a couple of crooks got the message. Things are about to get ugly in Gotham, and I didn’t want to stick around when it did.”

            “Who sent the message Selina?” Bruce asks, “Who?”

            “I didn’t get a good look at the signature,” she says, “But the letterhead… every villain in Gotham knows what that symbol means. Besides you it’s our worst fear.” She looks out into the night, her eyes focusing on a tall, wicked building.

            Bruce follows her gaze and his eyes widen in realization.

            “No,” he whispers, “It… it can’t be…”

            Miles away, near the other side of Gotham, lightning strikes overhead, lighting up the sky. Clouds gather around a single building, ancient in structure and rich with history. Its walls are soaked with blood, and it stands, singled out from the rest of Gotham, and perched on an island.

            A fence surrounds the entire area. The only entrance, a gate, has the name of this unholy horror wrought into the iron.

            ‘Arkham Asylum’.

* * *

             “Dr. Strange! Dr. Strange!”

            Strange smiles and looks up from his file. Before him stands Scarecrow, covered in a bloody doctor’s coat.

            “Yes, Scarecrow?” Strange asks, “How was the operation?”

            “It was a total success,” Scarecrow hisses, “Your patient should be ready and operational within the next hour.”

            “Very good,” Strange smiles, standing and walking towards the large bay window, “We’ll need our patient for when _he_ arrives.”

            “You’re sure Batman knows where we are?” Scarecrow asks.

            “I know,” Strange says, “I can… _feel_ it.” He laughs, another bolt of lightning landing just outside the window.

            “And I can’t _wait_ to see his face when he sees just what we’ve done.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So what an ending huh? I love cliffhangers.
> 
> To start, I will try and get more content out to you guys, I really love this story and all the support it's received along the way. I want you to know how much I appreciate every single one of you who reads and favors and comments it. It really helps keep me motivated to continue the story and work through my writer's block.
> 
> But like I said at the beginning I've been working really hard since the beginning of the summer. I've got two jobs and I'm taking a night course in a really rough subject (Accounting, yikes) and I've been really struggling to juggle this all. This was the first creative thing I've been able to complete in awhile and it feels good to get the juices pumping again.
> 
> Especially since I'm in the home stretch. This was only the second chapter of the final arc, and I hope it gives a good sign of what's to come next.
> 
> Keep faith, Batflash fans!

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for your time! Leave kudos if you liked and comment if you have something (positive) to say!


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